GIFT  OF 


C  <f  ? 


MARIETTA 


A    MAID    OF    VENICE 


BY 

F.    MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR   OF    "IN   THE    PALACE    OF   THE    KING,"    "VIA    CRUCIS,' 
"AVB    ROMA   IMMORTALIS."    ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:    MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 

1906 

All  rights  reserved 


/ 


COPTBISHT,   1901, 

BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  October,  1901.    Reprinted  November, 
twice,  1901  ;  December,  1901  ;  February,  July,  1902  ;  January, 

1903 ;  July,  1906. 


Thirty-ninth  Thousand 


Norfaoob  $re03 

J.  8.  Gushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Man.  U.S.A. 


MARIETTA 
A    MAID    OF    VENICE 


it 


OF  THE 

f   UNIVERSITY  )) 

OF 


MARIETTA 

A  MAID   OF  VENICE 

CHAPTER  I 

VERY  little  was  known  about  George,  the  Dalmatian, 
and  the  servants  in  the  house  of  Angelo  Beroviero, 
as  well  as  the  workmen  of  the  latter's  glass  furnace, 
called  him  Zorzi,  distrusted  him,  suggested  that  he 
was  probably  a  heretic,  and  did  not  hide  their  sus- 
picion that  he  was  in  love  with  the  master's  only 
daughter,  Marietta.  All  these  matters  were  against 
him,  and  people  wondered  why  old  Angelo  kept  the 
waif  in  his  service,  since  he  could  have  engaged  any 
one  out  of  a  hundred  young  fellows  of  Murano,  all 
belonging  to  the  almost  noble  caste  of  the  glass- 
workers,  all  good  Christians,  all  trustworthy,  and  all 
ready  to  promise  that  the  lovely  Marietta  should 
never  make  the  slightest  impression  upon  their  re- 
spectfully petrified  hearts.  But  Angelo  had  not  been 
accustomed  to  consider  what  his  neighbours  might 
think  of  him  or  his  doings,  and  most  of  his  neigh- 
bours and  friends  abstained  with  singular  unanim- 
ity from  thrusting  their  opinions  upon  him.  For  this, 
there  were  three  reasons  :  he  was  very  rich,  he  was  the 
greatest  living  artist  in  working  glass,  and  he  was 


155656 


2  MARIETTA 

of  a  choleric  temper.  He  confessed  the  latter  fault 
with  great  humility  to  the  curate  of  San  Piero  each 
year  in  Lent,  but  he  would  never  admit  it  to  any  one 
else.  Indeed,  if  any  of  his  family  ever  suggested  that 
he  was  somewhat  hasty,  he  flew  into  such  an  ungovern- 
able rage  in  proving  the  contrary  that  it  was  scarcely 
wise  to  stay  in  the  house  while  the  fit  lasted.  Marietta 
alone  was  safe.  As  for  her  brothers,  though  the  elder 
was  nearly  forty  years  old,  it  was  not  long  since  his 
father  had  given  him  a  box  on  the  ears  which  made  him 
see  simultaneously  all  the  colours  of  all  the  glasses  ever 
made  in  Murano  before  or  since.  It  is  true  that  Gio- 
vanni had  timidly  asked  to  be  told  one  of  the  secrets  for 
making  fine  red  glass  which  old  Angelo  had  learned 
long  ago  from  old  Paolo  Godi  of  Pergola,  the  famous 
chemist;  and  these  secrets  were  all  carefully  written 
out  in  the  elaborate  character  of  the  late  fifteenth 
century,  and  Angelo  kept  the  manuscript  in  an  iron 
box,  under  his  own  bed,  and  wore  the  key  on  a  small 
silver  chain  at  his  neck. 

He  was  a  big  old  man,  with  fiery  brown  eyes,  large 
features,  and  a  very  pale  skin.  His  thick  hair  and 
short  beard  had  once  been  red,  and  streaks  of  the 
strong  colour  still  ran  through  the  faded  locks.  His 
hands  were  large,  but  very  skilful,  and  the  long 
straight  fingers  were  discoloured  by  contact  with  the 
substances  he  used  in  his  experiments. 

He  was  jealous  by  nature,  rather  than  suspicious. 
He  had  been  jealous  of  his  wife  while  she  had  lived, 
though  a  more  devoted  woman  never  fell  to  the 


A  MAID  OP  VENICE  8 

lot  of  a  lucky  husband.  Often,  for  weeks  together, 
he  had  locked  the  door  upon  her  and  taken  the 
key  with  him  every  morning  when  he  left  the  house, 
though  his  furnaces  were  almost  exactly  opposite,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  narrow  canal,  so  that  by  coming 
to  the  door  he  could  have  spoken  with  her  at  her  win- 
dow. But  instead  of  doing  this  he  used  to  look  through 
a  little  grated  opening  which  he  had  caused  to  be  made 
in  the  wall  of  the  glass-house  ;  and  when  his  wife  was 
seated  at  her  window,  at  her  embroidery,  he  could 
watch  her  unseen,  for  she  was  beautiful  and  he  loved 
her.  One  day  he  saw  a  stranger  standing  by  the 
water's  edge,  gazing  at  her,  and  he  went  out  and  threw 
the  man  into  the  canal.  When  she  died,  he  said  little, 
but  he  would  not  allow  his  own  children  to  speak  of 
her  before  him.  After  that,  he  became  almost  as  jeal- 
ous of  his  daughter,  and  though  he  did  not  lock  her  up 
like  her  mother,  he  used  to  take  her  with  him  to  the 
glass-house  when  the  weather  was  not  too  hot,  so  that 
she  should  not  be  out  of  his  sight  all  day. 

Moreover,  because  he  needed  a  man  to  help  him, 
and  because  he  was  afraid  lest  one  of  his  own  caste 
should  fall  in  love  with  Marietta,  he  took  Zorzi,  the 
Dalmatian  waif,  into  his  service ;  and  the  three  were 
often  together  all  day  in  the  room  where  Angelo  had 
set  up  a  little  furnace  for  making  experiments.  In 
the  year  1470  it  was  not  lawful  in  Murano  to  teach 
any  foreign  person  the  art  of  glass-making ;  for  the 
glass-blowers  were  a  sort  of  nobility,  and  nearly  a 
hundred  years  had  passed  since  the  Council  had  de- 


4  MARIETTA 

clared  that  patricians  of  Venice  might  marry  the 
daughters  of  glass-workers  without  affecting  their 
own  rank  or  that  of  their  children.  But  old  Bero- 
viero  declared  that  he  was  not  teaching  Zorzi  any- 
thing, that  the  young  fellow  was  his  servant  and  not 
his  apprentice,  and  did  nothing  but  keep  up  the  fire 
in  the  furnace,  and  fetch  and  carry,  grind  materials, 
and  sweep  the  floor.  It  was  quite  true  that  Zorzi 
did  all  these  things,  and  he  did  them  with  a  silent 
regularity  that  made  him  indispensable  to  his  master, 
who  scarcely  noticed  the  growing  skill  with  which 
the  young  man  helped  him  at  every  turn,  till  he  could 
be  entrusted  to  perform  the  most  delicate  operations 
in  glass-working  without  any  especial  instructions. 
Intent  upon  artistic  matters,  the  old  man  was  hardly 
aware,  either,  that  Marietta  had  learned  much  of  his 
art ;  or  if  he  realised  the  fact  he  felt  a  sort  of  jealous 
satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  she  liked  to  be  shut  up 
with  him  for  hours  at  a  time,  quite  out  of  sight  of  the 
world  and  altogether  out  of  harm's  way.  He  fancied 
that  she  grew  more  like  him  from  day  to  day,  and  he 
flattered  himself  that  he  understood  her.  She  and 
Zorzi  were  the  only  beings  in  his  world  who  never  irri- 
tated him,  now  that  he  had  them  always  under  his  eye 
and  command.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  suppose 
himself  to  be  profoundly  acquainted  with  their  two 
natures,  though  he  had  never  taken  the  smallest  pains 
to  test  this  imaginary  knowledge.  Possibly,  in  their 
different  ways,  they  knew  him  better  than  he  knew 
them. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  5 

The  glass-house  was  guarded  from  outsiders  as 
carefully  as  a  nunnery,  and  somewhat  resembled  a 
convent  in  having  no  windows  so  situated  that  curious 
persons  might  see  from  without  what  went  on  inside. 
The  place  was  entered  by  a  low  door  from  the  narrow 
paved  path  that  ran  along  the  canal.  In  a  little  vesti- 
bule, ill-lighted  by  one  small  grated  window,  sat  the 
porter,  an  uncouth  old  man  who  rarely  answered  ques- 
tions, and  never  opened  the  door  until  he  had  assured 
himself  by  a  deliberate  inspection  through  the  grating 
that  the  person  who  knocked  had  a  right  to  come  in. 
Marietta  remembered  him  in  his  den  when  she  had 
been  a  little  child,  and  she  vaguely  supposed  that  he 
had  always  been  there.  He  had  been  old  then,  he  was 
not  visibly  older  now,  he  would  probably  never  die  of 
old  age,  and  if  any  mortal  ill  should  carry  him  off,  he 
would  surely  be  replaced  by  some  one  exactly  like 
him,  who  would  sleep  in  the  same  box  bed,  sit  all  day 
in  the  same  black  chair,  and  eat  bread,  shellfish  and 
garlic  off  the  same  worm-eaten  table.  There  was  no 
other  entrance  to  the  glass-house,  and  there  could  be 
no  other  porter  to  guard  it. 

Beyond  the  vestibule  a  dark  corridor  led  to  a  small 
garden  that  formed  the  court  of  the  building,  and  on 
one  side  of  which  were  the  large  windows  that  lighted 
the  main  furnace  room,  while  the  other  side  contained 
the  laboratory  of  the  master.  But  the  main  furnace 
was  entered  from  the  corridor,  so  that  the  workmen 
never  passed  through  the  garden.  There  were  a  few 
shrubs  in  it,  two  or  three  rose-bushes  and  a  small 


6  MABIBTTA 

plane-tree.  Zorzi,  who  had  been  born  and  brought  up 
in  the  country,  had  made  a  couple  of  flower-beds,  edged 
with  refuse  fragments  of  coloured  and  iridescent  slag, 
and  he  had  planted  such  common  flowers  as  he  could 
make  grow  in  such  a  place,  watering  them  from  a  dis- 
used rain-water  cistern  that  was  supposed  to  have 
been  poisoned  long  ago.  Here  Marietta  often  sat  in 
the  shade,  when  the  laboratory  was  too  close  and  hot, 
and  when  the  time  was  at  hand  during  which  even  the 
men  would  not  be  able  to  work  on  account  of  the  heat, 
and  the  furnace  would  be  put  out  and  repaired,  and 
every  one  would  be  set  to  making  the  delicate  clay 
pots  in  which  the  glass  was  to  be  melted.  Marietta 
could  sit  silent  and  motionless  in  her  seat  under  the 
plane-tree  for  a  long  time  when  she  was  thinking,  and 
she  never  told  any  one  her  thoughts. 

She  was  not  unlike  her  father  in  looks,  and  that  was 
doubtless  the  reason  why  he  assumed  that  she  must 
be  like  him  in  character.  No  one  would  have  said 
that  she  was  handsome,  but  sometimes,  when  she 
smiled,  those  who  saw  that  rare  expression  in  *ier  face 
thought  she  was  beautiful.  When  it  was  gone,  they 
said  she  was  cold.  Fortunately,  her  hair  was  not  red, 
as  her  father's  had  been,  or  she  might  sometimes  have 
seemed  positively  ugly ;  it  was  of  that  deep  ruddy, 
golden  brown  that  one  may  often  see  in  Venice  still, 
and  there  was  an  abundance  of  it,  though  it  was 
drawn  straight  back  from  her  white  forehead  and 
braided  into  the  smallest  possible  space,  in  the  fashion 
of  that  time.  There  was  often  a  little  colour  in  her 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  i 

face,  though  never  much,  and^  it  was  faint,  yet  very 
fresh,  like  the  tint  within  certain  delicate  shells  ;  her 
lips  were  of  the  same  hue,  but  stronger  and  brighter, 
and  they  were  very  well  shaped  and  generally  closed, 
like  her  father's.  But  her  eyes  were  not  like  his,  and 
the  lids  and  lashes  shaded  them  in  such  a  way  that 
it  was  hard  to  guess  their  colour,  and  they  had  an 
inscrutable,  reserved  look  that  was  hard  to  meet  for 
many  seconds.  Zorzi  believed  that  they  were  grey, 
but  when  he  saw  them  in  his  dreams  they  were  violet ; 
and  one  day  she  opened  them  wide  for  an  instant, 
at  something  old  Beroviero  said  to  her,  and  then  Zorzi 
fancied  that  they  were  like  sapphires,  but  before  he 
could  be  sure,  the  lids  and  lashes  shaded  them  again, 
and  he  only  knew  that  they  were  there,  and  longed  to 
see  them,  for  her  father  had  spoken  of  her  marriage, 
and  she  had  not  answered  a  single  word. 

"When  they  were  alone  together  for  a  moment,  while 
the  old  man  was  searching  for  more  materials  in  the 
next  room,  she  spoke  to  Zorzi. 

"  My  father  did  not  mean  you  to  hear  that,"  she  said. 

"Nevertheless,  I  heard,"  answered  Zorzi,  pushing  a 
small  piece  of  beech  wood  into  the  fire  through  a  nar- 
row slit  on  one  side  of  the  brick  furnace.  "  It  was  not 
my  fault." 

"Forget  that  you  heard  it,"  said  Marietta  quietly, 
and  as  her  father  entered  the  room  again  she  passed 
him  and  went  out  into  the  garden. 

But  Zorzi  did  not  even  try  to  forget  the  name  of  the 
man  whom  Beroviero  appeared  to  have  chosen  for  his 


MARIETTA 

daughter.  He  tried,  instead,  to  understand  why  Mari- 
etta wished  him  not  to  remember  that  the  name  was 
Jacopo  Contarini.  He  glanced  sideways  at  the  girl's 
figure  as  she  disappeared  through  the  door,  and  he 
thoughtfully  pushed  another  piece  of  wood  into  the 
fire.  Some  day,  perhaps  before  long,  she  would  marry 
this  man  who  had  been  mentioned,  and  then  Zorzi 
would  be  alone  with  old  Beroviero  in  the  laboratory. 
He  set  his  teeth,  and  poked  the  fire  with  an  iron  rod. 

It  happened  now  and  then  that  Marietta  did  not 
come  to  the  glass-house.  Those  days  were  long,  and 
when  night  came  Zorzi  felt  as  if  his  heart  were  turn- 
ing into  a  hot  stone  in  his  breast,  and  his  sight  was 
dull,  and  he  ached  from  his  work  and  felt  scorched  by 
the  heat  of  the  furnace.  For  he  was  not  very  strong 
of  limb,  though  he  was  quick  with  his  hands  and  of  a 
very  tenacious  nature,  able  to  endure  pain  as  well  as 
weariness  when  he  was  determined  to  finish  what  he 
had  begun.  But  while  Marietta  was  in  the  laboratory, 
nothing  could  tire  him  nor  hurt  him,  nor  make  him 
wish  that  the  hours  were  less  long.  He  thought  there- 
fore of  what  must  happen  to  him  if  Jacopo  Contarini 
took  Marietta  away  from  Murano  to  live  in  a  palace  in 
Venice,  and  he  determined  at  least  to  find  out  what  sort 
of  man  this  might  be  who  was  to  receive  for  his  own  the 
only  woman  in  the  world  for  whose  sake  it  would  be 
perfect  happiness  to  be  burned  with  slow  fire.  He  did 
not  mean  to  do  Contarini  any  harm.  Perhaps  Marietta 
already  loved  the  man,  and  was  glad  she  was  to  marry 
him.  No  one  could  have  told  what  she  felt,  even  from 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  9 

•that  one  flashing  look  she  had  given  her  father.  Zorzi 
did  not  try  to  understand  her  yet ;  he  only  loved  her, 
and  she  was  his  master's  daughter,  and  if  his  master 
found  out  his  secret  it  would  be  a  very  evil  day  for 
him.  So  he  poked  the  fire  with  his  iron  rod,  and  set 
his  teeth,  and  said  nothing,  while  old  Beroviero  moved 
about  the  room. 

"  Zorzi,"  said  the  master  presently,  "  I  meant  you  to 
hear  what  I  said  to  my  daughter." 

"I  heard,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man,  rising 
respectfully,  and  waiting  for  more. 

"  Remember  the  name  you  heard,"  said  Beroviero. 

If  the  matter  had  been  any  other  in  the  world,  Zorzi 
would  have  smiled  at  the  master's  words,  because  they 
bade  him  do  just  what  Marietta  had  forbidden.  The 
one  said  "forget,"  the  other  "remember."  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  Zorzi  found  it  easier  to  obey  his 
lady's  father  than  herself.  He  bent  his  head  re- 
spectfully. 

"  I  trust  you,  Zorzi,"  continued  Beroviero,  slowly 
mixing  some  materials  in  a  little  wooden  trough  on  the 
table.  "  I  trust  you,  because  I  must  trust  some  one  in 
order  to  have  a  safe  means  of  communicating  with  Casa 
Contarini." 

Again  Zorzi  bent  his  head,  but  still  he  said  nothing. 

"  These  five  years  you  have  worked  with  me  in  pri- 
» ate,"  the  old  man  went  on,  "  and  I  know  that  you 
.have  not  told  what  you  have  seen  me  do,  though  there 
are  many  who  would  pay  you  good  money  to  know 
what  I  have  been  about." 


10  MARIETTA 

"  That  is  true,"  answered  Zorzi. 

"  Yes.  I  therefore  judge  that  you  are  one  of  those 
unusual  beings  whom  God  has  sent  into  the  world  to 
be  of  use  to  their  fellow-creartures  instead  of  a  hin- 
drance r  For  you  possess  the  power  of  holding  your 
tongue,  which  I  had  almost  believed  to  be  extinct  in 
the  human  race.  I  am  going  to  send  you  on  an  errand 
to  Venice,  to  Jacopo  Contarini.  If  I  sent  any  one 
from  my  house,  all  Murano  would  know  it  to-morrow 
morning,  but  I  wish  no  one  here  to  guess  where  you 
have  been." 

"  No  one  shall  see  me,"  answered  Zorzi.  **  Tell  me 
only  where  I  am  to  go." 

"You  know  Venice  well  by  this  time.  You  must 
have  often  passed  the  house  of  the  Agnus  Dei." 

"  By  the  Baker's  Bridge  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Go  there  alone  to-night  and  ask  for  Messer 
Jacopo;  and  if  the  porter  inquires  your  business,  say 
that  you  have  a  message  and  a  token  from  a  certain 
Angelo.  When  you  are  admitted  and  are  alone  with 
Messer  Jacopo,  tell  him  from  me  to  go  and  stand  by  the 
second  pillar  on  the  left  in  Saint  Mark's,  on  Sunday 
next,  an  hour  before  noon,  until  he  sees  me ;  and  within 
a  week  after  that,  he  shall  have  the  answer ;  and  bid 
him  be  silent,  if  he  would  succeed." 

"Is  that  all,  sir?" 

"  That  is  all.  If  he  gives  you  any  message  in  answer, 
deliver  it  to  me  to-morrow,  when  my  daughter  is  not 
here." 

"And  the  token?"  inquired  Zorzi. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  11 

"  This  glass  seal,  of  which  he  already  has  an  impres- 
sion in  wax,  in  case  he  should  doubt  you." 

Zorzi  took  the  little  leathern  bag  which  contained 
the  seal.  He  tied  a  piece  of  string  to  it,  and  hung  it 
round  his  neck,  so  that  it  was  hidden  in  his  doublet 
like  a  charm  or  a  scapulary.  Beroviero  watched  him 
and  nodded  in  approval. 

"Do  not  start  before  it  is  quite  dark,"  he  said. 
"Take  the  little  skiff.  The  water  will  be  high 
two  hours  before  midnight,  so  you  will  have  no 
trouble  in  getting  across.  When  you  come  back, 
come  here,  and  tell  the  porter  that  I  have  ordered 
you  to  see  that  my  fire  is  properly  kept  up.  Then 
go  to  sleep  in  the  coolest  place  you  can  find." 

After  Beroviero  had  given  him  these  orders, 
Zorzi  had  plenty  of  time  for  reflection,  for  his  master 
said  nothing  more,  and  became  absorbed  in  his  work, 
weighing  out  portions  of  different  ingredients  and 
slowly  mixing  each  with  the  coloured  earths  and 
chemicals  that  were  already  in  the  wooden  trough. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  tend  the  fire,  and  Zorzi 
pushed  in  the  pieces  of  Istrian  beech  wood  with  his 
usual  industrious  regularity.  It  was  the  only  part  of 
his  work  which  he  hated,  and  when  he  was  obliged  to 
do  nothing  else,  he  usually  sought  consolation  in 
dreaming  of  a  time  when  he  himself  should  be  a 
master  glass-blower  and  artist  whom  it  would  be 
almost  an  honour  for  a  young  man  to  serve,  even 
in  such  a  humble  way.  He  did  not  know  how 
that  was  to  happen,  since  there  were  strict  laws 


12  MARIETTA 

against  teaching  the  art  to  foreigners,  and  also 
against  allowing  any  foreign  person  to  establish  a 
furnace  at  Murano  ;  and  the  glass  works  had  long 
been  altogether  banished  from  Venice  on  account 
of  the  danger  of  fire,  at  a  time  when  two-thirds  of 
the  houses  were  of  wood.  But  meanwhile  Zorzi  had 
learned  the  art,  in  spite  of  the  law,  and  he  hoped  in 
time  to  overcome  the  other  obstacles  that  opposed 
him. 

There  was  strength  of  purpose  in  every  line  of 
his  keen  young  face,  strength  to  endure,  to  forego, 
to  suffer  in  silence  for  an  end  ardently  desired. 
The  dark  brown  hair  grew  somewhat  far  back  from 
the  pale  forehead,  the  features  were  youthfully  sharp 
and  clearly  drawn,  and  deep  neutral  shadows  gave  a 
look  of  almost  passionate  sadness  to  the  black  eyes. 
There  was  quick  perception,  imagination,  love  of  art 
for  its  own  sake  in  the  upper  part  of  the,  face  ;  its 
strength  lay  in  the  well-built  jaw  and  firm  lips,  and  a 
little  in  the  graceful  and  assured  poise  of  the  head. 
Zorzi  was  not  tall,  but  he  was  shapely,  and  moved 
without  effort. 

His  eyes  were  sadder  than  usual  just  now,  as  he 
tended  the  fire  in  the  silence  that  was  broken  only 
by  the  low  roar  of  the  flames  within  the  brick  furnace, 
and  the  irregular  sound  of  the  master's  wooden  instru- 
ment as  he  crushed  and  stirred  the  materials  together. 
Zorzi  had  longed  to  see  Contarini  as  soon  as  he  had 
heard  his  name  ;  and  having  unexpectedly  obtained 
the  certainty  of  seeing  him  that  very  night,  he  wished 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  18 

that  the  moment  could  be  put  off,  he  felt  cold  and  hot, 
he  wondered  how  he  should  behave,  and  whether  after 
all  he  might  not  be  tempted  to  do  his  enemy  some 
bodily  harm. 

For  in  a  few  minutes  the  aspect  of  his  world  had 
changed,  and  Contarini's  unknown  figure  filled  the 
future.  Until  to-day,  he  had  never  seriously  thought 
of  Marietta's  marriage,  nor  of  what  would  happen  to 
him  afterwards  ;  but  now,  he  was  to  be  one  of  the 
instruments  for  bringing  the  marriage  about.  He 
knew  well  enough  what  the  appointment  in  Saint 
Mark's  meant :  Marietta  was  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  Contarini  before  accepting  him.  Even 
that  was  something  of  a  concession  in  those  times, 
but  Beroviero  fancied  that  he  loved  his  child  too 
much  to  marry  her  against  her  will.  This  was  prob- 
ably a  great  match  for  the  glass-worker's  daughter, 
however,  and  she  would  not  refuse  it.  Contarini  had 
never  seen  her  either ;  he  might  have  heard  that 
she  was  a  pretty  girl,  but  there  were  famous  beauties 
in  Venice,  and  if  he  wanted  Marietta  Beroviero  it 
could  only  be  for  her  dowry.  The  marriage  was 
therefore  a  mere  bargain  between  the  two  men,  in 
which  a  name  was  bartered  for  a  fortune  and  a  fortune 
for  a  name.  Zorzi  saw  how  absurd  it  was  to  suppose 
that  Marietta  could  care  for  a  man  whom  she  had 
never  even  seen ;  and  worse  than  that,  he  guessed  in  a 
flash  of  loving  intuition  how  wretchedly  unhappy  she 
might  be  with  him,  and  he  hated  and  despised  the 
errand  he  was  to  perform.  The  future  seemed  to 


14  MARIETTA 

reveal  itself  to  him  with  the  long  martyrdom  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  and  he  felt  an  almost  irresistible 
desire  to  go  to  her  and  implore  her  to  refuse  to  be 
sold. 

Nine-tenths  of  the  marriages  he  had  ever  heard  of  in 
Murano  or  Venice  had  been  made  in  this  way,  and  in 
a  moment's  reflection  he  realised  the  folly  of  appeal- 
ing even  to  the  girl  herself,  who  doubtless  looked 
upon  the  whole  proceeding  as  perfectly  natural.  She 
had  of  course  expected  such  an  event  ever  since  she 
had  been  a  child,  she  was  prepared  to  accept  it,  and 
she  only  hoped  that  her  husband  might  turn  out  to  b& 
young,  handsome  and  noble,  since  she  did  not  want 
money.  A  moment  later,  Zorzi  included  all  marriage- 
able young  women  in  one  sweeping  condemnation  : 
they  were  all  hard-hearted,  mercenary,  vain,  deceitful 
—  anything  that  suggested  itself  to  his  headlong  re- 
sentment. Art  was  the  only  thing  worth  living  and 
dying  for  ;  the  world  was  full  of  women,  and  they 
were  all  alike,  old,  young,  ugly,  handsome  —  all  a  pack 
of  heartless  jades  ;  but  art  was  one,  beautiful,  true, 
deathless  and  unchanging. 

He  looked  up  from  the  furnace  door,  and  he  felt 
the  blood  rush  to  his  face.  Marietta  was  standing 
near  and  watching  him  with  her  strangely  veiled 
eyes.  N 

"  Poor  Zorzi  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  soft  voice.  "  How 
hot  you  look  !  " 

He  did  not  remember  that  he  had  ever  cared  a  straw 
whether  any  one  noticed  that  he  was  hot  or  not,  until 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  15 

•that  moment  ;  but  for  some  complicated  reason  con- 
nected with  his  own  thoughts  the  remark  stung  him 
like  an  insult,  and  fully  confirmed  his  recent  verdict 
concerning  women  in  general  and  their  total  lack  of 
all  human  kindness  where  men  were  concerned.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  suddenly  and  turned  away  without  a 
word. 

"Come  out  into  the  garden,"  said  Marietta.  "Do 
you  need  Zorzi  just  now  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  her 
father,  who  only  shook  his  head  by  way  of  answer, 
for  he  was  very  busy. 

"  But  I  assure  you  that  I  am  not  too  hot,"  answered 
Zorzi.  "  Why  should  I  go  out  ?  " 

"Because  I  want  you  to  fasten  up  one  of  the 
branches  of  the  red  rose.  It  catches  in  my  skirt  every 
time  I  pass.  You  will  need  a  hammer  and  a  little 
nail." 

She  had  not  been  thinking  of  his  comfort  after  all, 
thought  Zorzi  as  he  got  the  hammer.  She  had  only 
wanted  something  done  for  herself.  He  might  have 
known  it.  But  for  the  rose  that  caught  in  her  skirt, 
he  might  have  roasted  alive  at  the  furnace  before  she 
would  have  noticed  that  he  was  hot.  He  followed  her 
out.  She  led  him  to  the  end  of  the  walk  farthest  from 
the  door  of  the  laboratory  ;  the  sun  was  low  and  all  the 
little  garden  was  in  deep  shade.  A  branch  of  the  rose- 
bush lay  across  the  path,  and  Zorzi  thought  it  looked 
very  much  as  if  it  had  been  pulled  down  on  purpose. 
She  pointed  to  it,  and  as  he  carefully  lifted  it  from  the 
ground  she  spoke  quickly,  in  a  low  tone. 


16  MARIETTA 

"What  was  iny  father  saying  to  you  a  while  ago?" 
she  asked. 

Zorzi  held  up  the  branch  in  his  hand,  ready  to 
fasten  it  against  the  wall,  and  looked  at  her.  He  saw 
at  a  glance  that  she  had  brought  him  out  to  ask  the 
question. 

"The  master  was  giving  me  certain  orders,"  he 
said. 

"  He  rarely  makes  such  long  speeches  when  he  gives 
orders,"  observed  the  girl. 

"His  instructions  were  very  particular." 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  what  they  were  ?  " 

Zorzi  turned  slowly  from  her  and  let  the  long  branch 
rest  on  the  bush  while  he  began  to  drive  a  nail  into  the 
wall.  Marietta  watched  him. 

"  Why  do  you  not  answer  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  cannot,"  he  said  briefly. 

"Because  you  will  not,  you  mean." 

"  As  you  choose."      Zorzi  went  on  striking  the  nail. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  answered  the  young  girl.  "  I  really 
wish  to  know  very  much.  Besides,  if  you  will  tell  me, 
I  will  give  you  something." 

Zorzi  turned  upon  her  suddenly  with  angry  eyes. 

"  If  money  could  buy  your  father's  secrets  from  me. 
I  should  be  a  rich  man  by  this  time." 

"I  think  I  know  as  much  of  my  father's  secrets  as 
you  do,"  answered  Marietta  more  coldly,  "and  I  did 
not  mean  to  offer  you  money." 

"  What  then  ?  "  But  as  he  asked  the  question  Zorzi 
turned  away  again  and  began  to  fasten  the  branch. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  17 

.  Marietta  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  she  idly  picked 
a  rose  from  the  bush  and  put  it  to  her  lips  to  breathe 
in  its  freshness. 

"Why  should  you  think  that  I  meant  to  insult  you?" 
she  asked  gently. 

"  I  am  only  a  servant,  after  all,"  answered  Zorzi, 
with  unnecessary  bitterness.  "  Why  should  you  not 
insult  your  servants,  if  you  please  ?  It  would  be  quite 
natural." 

"  Would  it  ?     Even  if  you  were  really  a  servant  ?  " 

"It  seems  quite  natural  to  you  that  I  should  betray 
your  father's  confidence.  I  do  not  see  much  difference 
between  taking  it  for  granted  that  a  man  is  a  traitor 
and  offering  him  money  to  act  as  one." 

"  No,"  said  Marietta,  smelling  the  rose  from  time  to 
time  as  she  spoke,  "  there  is  not  much  difference.  But 
I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings." 

"  You  did  not  realise  that  I  could  have  any,  I  fancy," 
retorted  Zorzi,  still  angry. 

"  Perhaps  I  did  not  understand  that  you  would  con- 
sider what  my  father  was  telling  you  in  the  same  light 
as  a  secret  of  the  art,"  said  Marietta  slowly,  "  nor  that 
you  would  look  upon  what  I  meant  to  offer  you  as  a 
bribe.  The  matter  concerned  me,  did  it  not?" 

"  Your  name  was  not  spoken.  I  have  fastened  the 
branch.  Is  there  anything  else  for  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Have  you  no  curiosity  to  know  what  I  would  have 
given  you  ?  "  asked  Marietta. 

"I  should  be  ashamed  to  want  anything  at  such  a 
price,"  returned  Zorzi  proudly. 
c 


J8  MARIETTA 

"  You  hold  your  honour  high,  even  in  trifles. " 

"It  is  all  I  have  —  my  honour  and  my  art." 

"You  care  for  nothing  else?  Nothing  else  in  the 
whole  world  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Zorzi. 

"You  must  be  very  lonely  in  your  thoughts,"  she 
said,  and  turned  away. 

As  she  went  slowly  along  the  path  her  hand  hung 
by  her  side,  and  the  rose  she  held  fell  from  her  fingers. 
Following  her  at  a  short  distance,  on  his  way  back  to 
the  laboratory,  Zorzi  stooped  and  picked  up  the  flower, 
not  thinking  that  she  would  turn  her  head.  But  at 
that  moment  she  had  reached  the  door,  and  she  looked 
back  and  saw  what  he  had  done.  She  stood  still  and 
held  out  her  hand,  expecting  him  to  come  up  with 
her. 

"  My  rose  I  "  she  exclaimed,  as  if  surprised.  "  Give 
it  back  to  me." 

Zorzi  gave  it  to  her,  and  the  colour  came  to  his  face 
a  second  time.  She  fastened  it  in  her  bodice,  looking 
down  at  it  as  she  did  so. 

"  I  am  so  fond  of  roses,"  she  said,  smiling  a  little. 
"  Are  you  ?  " 

"  I  planted  all  those  you  have  here,"  he  answered. 

"Yes  —  I  know." 

She  looked  up  as  she  spoke,  and  met  his  eyes,  and  all 
at  once  she  laughed,  not  unkindly,  nor  as  if  at  him,  nor 
at  what  he  had  said,  but  quietly  and  happily,  as  women 
do  when  they  have  got  what  they  want.  Zorzi  did  not 
understand. 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  19 

•   "  You  are  gay,"  he  said  coldly. 

"  Do  you  wonder  ?  "  she  asked.  "  If  you  knew  what 
I  know,  you  would  understand." 

"  But  I  do  not." 

Zorzi  went  back  to  his  furnace,  Marietta  exchanged 
a  few  words  with  her  father  and  left  the  room  again  to 
go  home. 

In  the  garden  she  paused  a  moment  by  the  rose-bush, 
where  she  had  talked  with  Zorzi,  but  there  was  not  even 
the  shadow  of  a  smile  in  her  face  now.  She  went  down 
the  dark  corridor  and  called  the  porter,  who  roused 
himself,  opened  the  door  and  hailed  the  house  opposite. 
A  woman  looked  out  in  the  evening  light,  nodded  and 
disappeared.  A  few  seconds  later  she  came  out  of  the 
house,  a  quiet  little  middle-aged  creature  in  brown, 
with  intelligent  eyes,  and  she  crossed  the  shaky  wooden 
bridge  over  the  canal  to  come  and  bring  Marietta  home. 
It  would  have  been  a  scandalous  thing  if  the  daughter 
of  Angelo  Beroviero  had  been  seen  by  the  neighbours 
to  walk  a  score  of  paces  in  the  street  without  an  at- 
tendant. She  had  thrown  a  hood  of  dark  green  cloth 
over  her  head,  and  the  folds  hung  below  her  shoulders, 
half  hiding  her  graceful  figure.  Her  step  was  smooth 
and  deliberate,  while  the  little  brown  serving-woman 
trotted  beside  her  across  the  wooden  bridge. 

The  house  of  Angelo  Beroviero  hung  over  the  paved 
way,  above  the  edge  of  the  water,  the  upper  story  being 
supported  by  six  stone  columns  and  massive  wooden 
beams,  forming  a  sort  of  portico  which  was  at  the  same 
time  a  public  thoroughfare  ;  but  as  the  house  was  not 


20  MARIETTA,    A  MAID  OP  VENICE 

far  from  the  end  of  the  canal  of  San  Piero  which  opens 
towards  Venice,  few  people  passed  that  way. 

Marietta  paused  a  moment  while  the  woman  held  the 
door  open  for  her.  The  sun  had  just  set  and  the  salt 
freshness  that  comes  with  the  rising  tide  was  already  in 
the  air. 

"I  wish  I  were  in  Venice  this  evening,"  she  said, 
almost  to  herself. 

The  serving-woman  looked  at  her  suspiciously. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  June  night  was  dark  and  warm  as  Zorzi  pushed 
off  from'  the  steps  before  his  master's  house  and  guided 
his  skiff  through  the  canal,  scarcely  moving  the  single 
oar,  as  the  rising  tide  took  his  boat  silently  along.  It 
was  not  until  he  had  passed  the  last  of  the  glass-houses 
on  his  right,  and  was  already  in  the  lagoon  that  sepa- 
rates Murano  from  Venice,  that  he  began  to  row, 
gently  at  first,  for  fear  of  being  heard  by  some  one 
ashore,  and  then  more  quickly,  swinging  his  oar  in 
the  curved  crutch  with  that  skilful,  serpentine  stroke 
which  is  neither  rowing  nor  sculling,  but  which  has  all 
the  advantages  of  both,  for  it  is  swift  and  silent,  and 
needs  scarcely  to  be  slackened  even  in  a  channel  so 
narrow  that  the  boat  itself  can  barely  pass. 

Now  that  he  was  away  from  the  houses,  the  stars 
came  out  and  he  felt  the  pleasant  land  breeze  in  his 
face,  meeting  the  rising  tide.  Not  a  boat  was  out 
upon  the  shallow  lagoon  but  his  own,  not  a  sound  came 
from  the  town  behind  him  ;  but  as  the  flat  bow  of  the 
skiff  gently  slapped  the  water,  it  plashed  and  purled 
with  every  stroke  of  the  oar,  and  a  faint  murmur  of 
voices  in  song  was  borne  to  him  on  the  wind  from  the 
still  waking  city. 

He  stood  upright  on  the  high  stern  of  the  shadowy 

21 


22  MARIETTA 

craft,  himself  but  a  moving  shadow  in  the  starlight, 
thrown  forward  now,  and  now  once  more  erect,  in 
changing  motion ;  and  as  he  moved  the  same  thought 
came  back  and  back  again  in  a  sort  of  halting  and 
painful  rhythm.  He  was  out  that  night  on  a  bad 
errand,  it  said,  helping  to  sell  the  life  of  the  woman 
he  loved,  and  what  he  was  doing  could  never  be 
undone.*  Again  and  again  the  words  said  themselves, 
the  far-off  voices  said  them,  the  lapping  water  took 
them  up  and  repeated  them,  the  breeze  whispered  them 
quickly  as  it  passed,  the  oar  pronounced  them  as  it 
creaked  softly  in  the  crutch  rowlock,  the  stars  spelled 
out  the  sentences  in  the  sky,  the  lights  of  Venice  wrote 
them  in  the  water  in  broken  reflections.  He  was  not 
alone  any  more,  for  everything  in  heaven  and  earth 
was  crying  to  him  to  go  back. 

That  was  folly,  and  he  knew  it.  The  master  who 
had  trusted  him  would  drive  him  out  of  his  house,  and 
out  of  Venetian  land  and  water,  too,  if  he  chose,  and 
he  should  never  see  Marietta  again  ;  and  she  would  be 
married  to  Contarini  just  as  if  Zorzi  had  taken  the 
message.  Besides,  it  was  the  custom  of  the  world 
everywhere,  so  far  as  he  knew,  that  marriage  and 
money  should  be  spoken  of  in  the  same  breath,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  his  master  should  make  an 
exception  and  be  different  from  other  men. 

He  could  put  some  hindrance  in  the  way,  of  course, 
if  he  chose  to  interfere,  for  he  could  deliver  the  message 
wrong,  and  Contarini  would  go  to  the  church  in  the 
afternoon  instead  of  in  the  morning.  He  smiled 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  23 

grimly  in  the  dark  as  he  thought  of  the  young 
nobleman  waiting  for  an  hour  or  two  beside  the 
pillar,  to  be  looked  at  by  some  one  who  never  came, 
then  catching  sight  at  last  of  some  ugly  old  maid  of 
forty,  protected  by  her  servant,  ogling  him  while  she 
said  her  prayers  and  filling  him  with  horror  at  the 
thought  that  she  must  be  Marietta  Beroviero.  All 
that  might  happen,  but  it  must  inevitably  be  found 
out,  the  misunderstanding  would  be  cleared  away  and 
the  marriage  would  be  arranged  after  all. 

He  had  rested  on  his  oar  to  think,  and  now  he  struck 
it  deep  into  the  black  water  and  the  skiff  shot  ahead. 
He  would  have  a  far  better  chance  of  serving  Marietta 
in  the  future  if  he  obeyed  his  master  and  delivered  his 
message  exactly;  for  he  should  see  Contarini  himself 
and  judge  of  him,  in  the  first  place,  and  that  alone  was 
worth  much,  and  afterwards  there  would  be  time  enough 
for  desperate  resolutions.  He  hastened  his  stroke,  and 
When  he  ran  under  the  shadow  of  the  overhanging 
houses  his  mood  changed  and  he  grew  hopeful,  as  many 
young  men  do,  out  of  sheer  curiosity  as  to  what  was 
before  him,  and  out  of  the  wish  to  meet  something  or 
somebody  that  should  put  his  own  strength  to  the  test. 

It  was  not  far  now.  With  infinite  caution  he  threaded 
the  dark  canals,  thanking  fortune  for  the  faint  starlight 
that  showed  him  the  turnings.  Here  and  there  a  small 
oil  lamp  burned  before  the  image  of  a  saint;  from  a 
narrow  lane  on  one  side,  the  light  streamed  across  the 
water,  and  with  it  came  sounds  of  ringing  glasses,  and 
the  tinkling  of  a  lute,  and  laughing  voices ;  then  it  was 


24  MARIETTA 

dark  again  as  his  skiff  shot  by,  and  he  made  haste,  for 
he  wished  not  to  be  seen. 

Presently,  and  somewhat  to  his  surprise,  he  saw  a 
gondola  before  him  in  a  narrow  place,  rowed  slowly  by 
a  man  who  seemed  to  be  in  black  like  himself.  He  did 
not  try  to  pass  it,  but  kept  a  little  astern,  trying  not  to 
attract  attention  and  hoping  that  it  would  turn  aside 
into  another  canal.  But  it  went  steadily  on  before 
him,  turning  wherever  he  must  turn,  till  it  stopped 
where  he  was  to  stop,  at  the  water-gate  of  the  house 
of  the  Agnus  Dei.  Instantly  he  brought  to  in  the 
shadow,  with  the  instinctive  caution  of  every  one  who 
is  used  to  the  water.  Gondolas  were  few  in  those  days 
and  belonged  only  to  the  rich,  who  had  just  begun  to 
use  them  as  a  means  of  getting  about  quickly,  much 
more  convenient  than  horses  or  mules  ;  for  when 
riding  a  man  often  had  to  go  far  out  of  his  way  to 
reach  a  bridge,  and  there  were  many  canals  that  had 
no  bridle  path  at  all  and  where  the  wooden  houses 
were  built  straight  down  into  the  water  as  the  stone 
ones  are  to-day.  Zorzi  peered  through  the  darkness 
and  listened.  The  occupant  of  the  gondola  might  be 
Contarini  himself,  coming  home.  Whoever  it  was 
tapped  softly  upon  the  door,  which  was  instantly  opened, 
but  to  Zorzi's  surprise  no  light  shone  from  the  entrance. 
All  the  house  above  was  still  and  dark,  and  he  could 
barely  make  out  by  the  starlight  the  piece  of  white 
marble  bearing  the  sculptured  Agnus  Dei  whence  the 
house  takes  its  name.  He  knew  that  above  the  high 
balcony  there  were  graceful  columns  bearing  pointed 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  25 

stone  arches,  between  which  are  the  symbols  of  the 
four  Evangelists  ;  but  he  could  see  nothing  of  them. 
Only  on  the  balcony,  he  fancied  he  saw  something  less 
dark  than  the  wall  or  the  sky,  and  which  might  be  a 
woman's  dress. 

Some  one  got  out  of  the  gondola  and  went  in  after 
speaking  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone,  and  the  door  was 
then  shut  without  noise.  The  gondola  glided  on,  under 
the  Baker's  Bridge,  but  Zorzi  could  not  see  whether  it 
went  further  or  not ;  he  thought  he  heard  the  sound  of 
the  oar,  as  if  it  were  going  away.  Coming  alongside 
the  step,  he  knocked  gently  as  the  last  comer  had  done, 
and  the  door  opened  again.  He  had  already  made  his 
skiff  fast  to  the  step. 

"  Your  business  here  ?  "  asked  a  muffled  voice  out  of 
the  dark. 

Zorzi  felt  that  a  number  of  persons  were  in  the  hall 
immediately  behind  the  speaker. 

44  For  the  Lord  Jacopo  Contarini,"  he  answered.  "  I 
have  a  message  and  a  token  to  deliver." 

"From  whom?" 

"  I  will  tell  that  to  his  lordship,"  replied  Zorzi. 

"  I  am  Contarini,"  replied  the  voice,  and  the  speaker 
felt  for  Zorzi's  face  in  the  darkness,  and  brought  it 
near  his  ear. 

"  From  Angelo,"  whispered  Zorzi,  so  softly  that  Con- 
tarini only  heard  the  last  word. 

The  door  was  now  shut  as  noiselessly  as  before,  but 
not  by  Contarini  himself.  He  still  kept  his  hold  on 
Zorzi's  arm. 


26  MARIETTA 

"  The  token,"  he  whispered  impatiently. 

Zorzi  pulled  the  little  leathern  bag  out  of  his  doublet^ 
slipped  the  string  over  his  head  and  thrust  the  token 
into  Contarini's  hand.  The  latter  uttered  a  low  ex- 
clamation of  surprise. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  token,"  answered  Zorzi. 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  he  felt  Contarini^s 
arms  round  him,  holding  him  fast.  He  was  wise 
enough  to  make  no  attempt  to  escape  from  them. 

"Friends,"  said  Contarini  quickly,  "the  man  who 
just  came  in  is  a  spy.  I  am  holding  him.  Help  me  !  " 

It  seemed  to  Zorzi  that  a  hundred  hands  seized  him 
in  the  dark,  by  the  arms,  by  the  legs,  by  the  body,  by 
the  head.  He  knew  that  resistance  was  worse  than 
useless.  There  were  hands  at  his  throat,  too. 

"  Let  us  do  nothing  hastily,"  said  Contarini's  voice, 
close  beside  him.  "  We  must  find  out  what  he  knows 
first.  We  can  make  him  speak,  I  daresay." 

"  We  are  not  hangmen  to  torture  a  prisoner  till  he 
confesses,"  observed  some  one  in  a  quiet  and  rather 
indolent  tone.  "  Strangle  him  quickly  and  throw  him 
into  the  canal.  It  is  late  already." 

"  No,"  answered  Contarini.  "  Let  us  at  least  see  his 
face.  We  may  know  him.  If  you  cry  out,"  he  said  'to 
Zorzi,  "you  will  be  killed  instantly." 

"  Jacopo  is  right,"  said  some  one  who  had  not  spoken 
yet. 

Almost  at  the  same  instant  a  door  was  opened  and  a 
broad  bar  of  light  shot  across  the  hall  from  an  inner 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  27 

room.  Zorzi  was  roughly  dragged  towards  it,  and  he 
saw  that  he  was  surrounded  by  about  twenty  masked 
men.  His  face  was  held  to  the  light,  and  Contarini's 
hold  on  his  throat  relaxed. 

"  Not  even  a  mask  I  "  exclaimed  Jacopo.  "  A  fool, 
or  a  madman.  Speak,  man  I  Who  are  you  ?  Who 
sent  you  here  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Zorzi,"  answered  the  glass-blower  with 
difficulty,  for  he  had  been  almost  choked.  "  My  busi- 
ness is  with  the  Lord  Jacopo  alone.  It  is  very 
private." 

'•*  I  have  no  secrets  from  my  friends,"  said  Contarini. 
"  Speak  as  if  we  were  alone." 

"  I  have  promised  my  master  to  deliver  the  message 
in  secret.  I  will  not  speak  here." 

"Strangle  him  and  throw  him  out,"  suggested  the 
man  with  the  indolent  voice.  "His  master  is  the  devil, 
I  have  no  doubt.  He  can  take  the  message  back  with 
him." 

Two  or  three  laughed. 

"  These  spies  seldom  hunt  alone,"  remarked  another. 
"While  we  are  wasting  time  a  dozen  more  may  be 
guarding  the  entrance  to  the  house." 

"  I  am  no  spy,"  said  Zorzi. 

"  What  are  you,  then  ?  " 

"  A  glass-worker  of  Murano." 

Contarini's  hands  relaxed  altogether,  now,  and  lit 
bent  his  ear  to  Zorzi's  lips. 

"  Whisper  your  message,"  he  said  quickly. 

Zorzi  obeyed. 


28  MARIETTA 

"Angelo  Beroviero  bids  you  wait  by  the  second 
pillar  on  the  left  in  Saint  Mark's  church,  next  Sun- 
day morning,  at  one  hour  before  noon,  till  you  shall 
see  him,  and  in  a  week  from  that  time  you  shall  have 
an  answer ;  and  be  silent,  if  you  would  succeed." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Contarini.  "  Friends,"  he 
said,  standing  erect,  "  it  is  a  message  I  have  expected. 
The  name  of  the  man  who  sends  it  is  '  Angelo '  —  you 
understand.  It  is  not  this  fellow's  fault  that  he  came 
here  this  evening." 

"  I  suppose  there  is  a  woman  in  the  case,"  said  the 
indolent  man.  "  We  will  respect  your  secret.  Put 
the  poor  devil  out  of  his  misery  and  let  us  come  to 
our  business." 

"  Kill  an  innocent  man !  "  exclaimed  Contarini. 

"  Yes,  since  a  word  from  him  can  send  us  all  to  die 
between  the  two  red  columns." 

"His  master  is  powerful  and  rich,"  said  Jacopo. 
"If  the  fellow  does  not  go  back  to-night,  there  will  be 
trouble  to-morrow,  and  since  he  was  sent  to  my  house, 
the  inquiry  will  begin  here." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  more  than  one  voice,  in  a  tone 
of  hesitation. 

Zorzi  was  very  pale,  but  he  held  his  head  high,  facing 
the  light  of  the  tall  wax  candles  on  the  table  around 
which  his  captors  were  standing.  He  was  hopelessly 
at  their  mercy,  for  they  were  twenty  to  one ;  the  door 
had  been  shut  and  barred  and  the  only  window  in  the 
room  was  high  above  the  floor  and  covered  by  a  thick 
Curtain.  He  understood  perfectly  that,  by  the  acci- 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  29 

dent  of  Angelo's  name,  "  Angel "  being  the  password 
of  the  company,  he  had  been  accidentally  admitted  to 
the  meeting  of  some  secret  society,  and  from  what  had 
been  said,  he  guessed  that  its  object  was  a  conspiracy 
against  the  Republic.  It  was  clear  that  in  self-defence 
they  would  most  probably  kill  him,  since  they  could  not 
reasonably  run  the  risk  of  trusting  their  lives  in  his 
hands.  They  looked  at  each  other,  as  if  silently  debat- 
ing what  they  should  do. 

"  At  first  you  suggested  that  we  should  torture  him," 
sneered  the  indolent  man,  "  and  now  you  tremble  like 
ft  girl  at  the  idea  of  killing  him !  Listen  to  me,  Jacopo ; 
if  you  think  that  I  will  leave  this  house  while  this 
fellow  is  alive,  you  are  most  egregiously  mistaken." 

He  had  drawn  his  dagger  while  he  was  speaking,  and 
before  he  had  finished  it  was  dangerously  near  Zorzi's 
throat.  Contarini  retired  a  step  as  if  not  daring  to 
defend  the  prisoner,  whose  assailant,  in  spite  of  his 
careless  and  almost  womanish  tone,  was  clearly  a  man 
of  action.  Zorzi  looked  fearlessly  into  the  eyes  that 
peered  at  him  through  the  holes  in  the  mask. 

"It  is  curious,"  observed  the  other.  "He  does  not 
seem  to  be  afraid.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  my  man,  for 
you  appear  to  be  a  fine  fellow,  and  I  like  your  face,  but 
we  cannot  possibly  let  you  go  out  of  the  house  alive." 

"If  you  choose  to  trust  me,"  said  Zorzi  calmly,  "I 
will  not  betray  you.  But  of  course  it  must  seem  safer 
for  you  to  kill  me.  I  quite  understand." 

"If  anything,  he  is  cooler  than  Venier,"  observed 
one  of  the  company. 


80  MARIETTA 

"  He  does  not  believe  that  we  are  in  earnest,"  said 
Contarini. 

"I  am,"  answered  Venier.  "Now,  my  man,"  he 
said,  addressing  Zorzi  again,  "if  there  is  anything  I 
can  do  for  you  or  your  family  after  your  death,  with- 
out risking  my  neck,  I  will  do  it  with  pleasure." 

"  I  have  no  family,  but  I  thank  you  for  your  offer. 
In  return  for  your  courtesy,  I  warn  you  that  my  mas- 
ter's skiff  is  fast  to  the  step  of  the  house.  It  might  be 
recognised.  When  you  have  killed  me,  you  had  better 
cast  it  off  —  it  will  drift  away  with  the  tide." 

Venier,  who  had  let  the  point  of  his  long  dagger 
rest  against  Zorzi's  collar,  suddenly  dropped  it. 

"  Contarini,"  he  said,  "  I  take  back  what  I  said.  It 
would  be  an  abominable  shame  to  murder  a  man  as 
brave  as  he  is." 

A  murmur  of  approval  came  from  all  the  company ; 
but  Contarini,  whose  vacillating  nature  showed  itself 
at  every  turn,  was  now  inclined  to  take  the  other  side. 

"  He  may  ruin  us  all,"  he  said.     "  One  word  —  " 

"It  seems  to  me,"  interrupted  a  big  man  who  had 
not  yet  spoken,  and  whose  beard  was  as  black  as  his 
mask,  "  that  we  could  make  use  of  just  such  a  man  as 
this,  and  of  more  like  him  if  they  are  to  be  found." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Venier.  "  If  he  will  take  the 
oath,  and  bear  the  tests,  let  him  be  one  of  us.  My 
friend,"  he  said  to  Zorzi,  "you  see  how  it  is.  You 
have  proved  yourself  a  brave  man,  and  if  you  are  will- 
ing to  join  our  company  we  shall  be  glad  to  receive 
you  among  us.  Do  you  agree  ?  " 


A   MAID    OF    VENICE  31 

•  "  I  must  know  what  the  purpose  of  your  society  is," 
answered  Zorzi  as  calmly  as  before. 

"That  is  well  said,  my  friend,  and  I  like  you  the 
better  for  it.  Now  listen  to  me.  We  are  a  brother- 
hood of  gentlemen  of  Venice  sworn  together  to  restore 
the  original  freedom  of  our  city.  That  is  our  main 
purpose.  What  Tiepolo  and  Faliero  failed  to  do,  we 
hope  to  accomplish.  Are  you  with  us  in  that  ?  " 

"  Sirs,"  answered  Zorzi,  "  I  am  a  Dalmatian  by  birth, 
and  not  a  Venetian.  The  Republic  forbids  me  to 
learn  the  art  of  glass-working.  I  have  learned  it. 
The  Republic  forbids  me  to  set  up  a  furnace  of  my 
own.  I  hope  to  do  so.  I  owe  Venice  neither  alle- 
giance nor  gratitude.  If  your  revolution  is  to  give 
freedom  to  art  as  well  as  to  men,  I  am  with  you." 

"  We  shall  have  freedom  for  all,"  said  Venier.  "  We 
take,  moreover,  an  oath  of  fellowship  which  binds  us  to 
help  each  other  in  all  circumstances,  to  the  utmost  of 
our  ability  and  fortune,  within  the  bounds  of  reason, 
to  risk  life  and  limb  for  each  other's  safety,  and  most 
especially  to  respect  the  wives,  the  daughters  and  the 
betrothed  brides  of  all  who  belong  to  our  fellowship. 
These  are  promises  which  every  true  and  honest  man 
can  make  to  his  friends,  and  we  agree  that  whoso 
breaks  any  one  of  them,  shall  die  by  the  hands  of  the 
company.  And  by  God  in  heaven,  it  were  better  that 
you  should  lose  your  life  now,  before  taking  the  oath, 
than  that  you  should  be  false  to  it." 

"  I  will  take  that  oath,  and  keep  it,"  said  Zorzi. 

•'That   is  well.     We  have  few  signs  and   no  cere- 


32  MARIETTA 

monies,  but  our  promises  are  binding,  and  the  forfeit 
is  a  painful  death  —  so  painful  that  even  you  might 
flinch  before  it.  Indeed,  we  usually  make  some  test 
of  a  man's  courage  before  receiving  him  among  us, 
though  most  of  us  have  known  each  other  since  we 
were  children.  But  you  have  shown  us  that  you  are 
fearless  and  honourable,  and  we  ask  nothing  more  of 
you,  except  to  take  the  oath  and  then  to  keep  it." 

He  turned  to  the  company,  still  speaking  in  his 
languid  way. 

"  If  any  man  here  knows  good  reason  why  this  new 
companion  should  not  be  one  of  us,  let  him  show  it 
now." 

Then  all  were  silent,  and  uncovered  their  heads,  but 
they  still  kept  their  masks  on  their  faces.  Zorzi 
stood  out  before  them,  and  Venier  was  close  beside 
him. 

"Make  the  sign  of  the  Cross,"  said  Venier  in  a 
solemn  tone,  quite  different  from  his  ordinary  voice, 
"and  repeat  the  words  after  me." 

And  Zorzi  repeated  them  steadily  and  precisely, 
holding  his  hand  stretched  out  before  him. 

"In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  I  promise  and 
swear  to  give  life  and  fortune  in  the  good  cause  of 
restoring  the  original  liberty  of  the  people  of  Venice, 
obeying  to  that  end  the  decisions  of  this  honourable 
society,  and  to  bear  all  sufferings  rather  than  betray 
it,  or  any  of  its  members.  And  I  promise  to  help  each 
one  of  my  companions  also  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of 
life,  to  the  best  of  my  ability  and  fortune,  within  the 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  33 

bounds  of  reason,  risking  life  and  limb  for  the  safety 
of  each  and  all.  And  I  promise  most  especially  to 
honour  and  respect  the  wives,  the  daughters  and  the 
betrothed  brides  of  all  who  belong  to  this  fellowship, 
and  to  defend  them  from  harm  and  insult,  even  as  my 
own  mother.  And  if  I  break  any  promise  of  this  oath, 
may  my  flesh  be  torn  from  my  limbs  and  my  limbs 
from  my  body,  one  by  one,  to  be  burned  with  fire  and 
the  ashes  thereof  scattered  abroad.  Amen." 

When  Zorzi  had  said  the  last  word,  Venier  grasped 
his  hand,  at  the  same  time  taking  off  the  mask  he 
wore,  and  he  looked  into  the  young  man's  face. 

"  I  am  Zuan  Venier,"  he  said,  his  indolent  manner 
returning  as  he  spoke. 

"I  am  Jacopo  Contarini,"  said  the  master  of  the 
house,  offering  his  hand  next. 

Zorzi  looked  first  at  one,  and  then  at  the  other  ;  the 
first  was  a  very  pale  young  man,  with  bright  blue  eyes 
and  delicate  features  that  were  prematurely  weary  and 
even  worn ;  Contarini  was  called  the  handsomest  Vene- 
tian of  his  day.  Yet  of  the  two,  most  men  and  women 
would  have  been  more  attracted  to  Venier  at  first 
sight.  For  Contarini's  silken  beard  hardly  concealed 
a  weak  and  feminine  mouth,  with  lips  too  red  and  too 
curving  for  a  man,  and  his  soft  brown  eyes  had  an 
unmanly  tendency  to  look  away  while  he  was  speak- 
ing. He  was  tall,  broad  shouldered,  and  well  propor- 
tioned, with  beautiful  hands  and  shapely  feet,  yet  he 
did  not  give  an  impression  of  strength,  whereas 
Venier's  languid  manner,  assumed  as  it  doubtless  was, 
D 


34  MARIETTA 

could  not  hide  the  restless  energy  that  lay  in  his  lean 
frame. 

One  by  one  the  other  companions  came  up  to  Zorzi, 
took  off  their  masks  and  grasped  his  hand,  and  he 
heard  their  lips  pronounce  names  famous  in  Venetian 
history,  Loredan,  Mocenigo,  Foscari  and  many  others. 
But  he  saw  that  not  one  of  them  all  was  over  five-and- 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  with  the  keenness  of  the  waif 
who  had  fought  his  own  way  in  the  world  he  judged 
that  these  were  not  men  who  could  overturn  the  great 
Republic  and  build  up  a  new  government.  Whatever 
they  might  prove  to  be  in  danger  and  revolution,  how- 
ever, he  had  saved  his  life  by  casting  his  lot  with 
theirs,  and  he  was  profoundly  grateful  to  them  for 
having  accepted  him  as  one  of  themselves.  But  for 
their  generosity,  his  weighted  body  would  have  been 
already  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  canal,  and  he  was 
not  just  now  inclined  to  criticise  the  mental  gifts  of 
those  would-be  conspirators  who  had  so  unexpectedly 
forgiven  him  for  discovering  their  secret  meeting. 

"  Sirs,"  he  said,  when  he  had  grasped  the  hand  of 
each,  "  I  hope  that  in  return  for  my  life,  for  which  I 
thank  you,  I  may  be  of  some  service  to  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  to  each  of  you  in  singular,  though  I  have 
but  little  hope  of  this,  seeing  that  I  am  but  an  artist 
and  you  are  all  patricians.  I  pray  you,  inform  me  by 
what  sign  I  may  know  you  if  we  chance  to  meet  out- 
side this  house,  and  how  I  may  make  myself  known." 

"  We  have  little  need  of  signs,"  answered  Contarini, 
"for  we  meet  often,  and  we  know  each  other  well. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  35 

But  our  password  is  'the  Angel'  —  meaning  the 
Angel  that  freed  Saint  Peter  from  his  bonds,  as  we 
hope  to  free  Venice  from  hers,  and  the  token  we  give 
is  the  grip  of  the  hand  we  have  each  given  you." 

Being  thus  instructed,  Zorzi  held  his  peace,  for  he 
felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  men  far  above  him 
in  station,  in  whose  conversation  it  would  not  be  easy 
for  him  to  join,  and  of  whose  daily  lives  he  knew 
nothing,  except  that  most  of  them  lived  in  palaces  and 
many  were  the  sons  of  Councillors  of  the  Ten,  and  of 
Senators,  and  Procurators  and  of  others  high  in  office, 
whereat  he  wondered  much.  But  presently,  as  the 
excitement  of  what  had  happened  wore  off,  and  they 
sat  about  the  table,  they  began  to  speak  of  the  news 
of  the  day,  and  especially  of  the  unjust  and  cruel  acts 
of  the  Ten,  each  contributing  some  detail  learned  in 
his  own  home  or  among  intimate  friends.  Zorzi  sat 
silent  in  his  place,  listening,  and  he  soon  understood 
that  as  yet  they  had  no  definite  plan  for  bringing  on 
a  revolution,  and  that  they  knew  nothing  of  the  popu- 
lace upon  whose  support  they  reckoned,  and  of  whom 
Zorzi  knew  much  by  experience.  Yet,  though  they 
told  each  other  things  which  seemed  foolish  to  him, 
he  said  nothing  on  that  first  night,  and  all  the  time 
he  watched  Contarini  very  closely,  and  listened  with 
especial  attention  to  what  he  said,  trying  to  discern 
his  character  and  judge  his  understanding. 

The  splendid  young  Venetian  was  not  displeased  by 
Zorzi's  attitude  towards  him,  and  presently  came  and 
sat  beside  him. 


36  MARIETTA 

"I  should  have  explained  to  you,"  he  said,  "that 
as  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  meet  here  without 
the  knowledge  of  my  servants,  we  come  together  on 
pretence  of  playing  games  of  chance.  My  father 
lives  in  our  palace  near  Saint  Mark's,  and  I  live  here 
alone." 

At  this  Foscari,  the  tall  man  with  the  black  beard, 
looked  at  Contarini  and  laughed  a  little.  Contarini 
glanced  at  him  and  smiled  with  some  constraint. 

"  On  such  evenings,"  he  continued,  "  I  admit  my 
guests  myself,  and  they  wear  masks  when  they  come, 
for  though  my  servants  are  dismissed  to  their  quarters, 
and  would  certainly  not  betray  me  for  a  dice-player, 
they  might  let  drop  the  names  of  my  friends  if  they 
saw  them  from  an  upper  window." 

At  this  juncture  Zorzi  heard  the  rattling  of  dice,  and 
looking  down  the  table  he  saw  that  two  of  the  company 
were  already  throwing  against  each  other.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  found  himself  sitting  alone  near  Zuan 
Venier,  all  the  others  having  either  begun  to  play 
themselves,  or  being  engaged  in  wagering  on  the  play 
of  others. 

"  And  you,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Zorzi  of  his  neighbour. 

"  I  am  tired  of  games  of  chance,"  answered  the  pale 
nobleman  wearily. 

"  But  our  host  says  it  is  a  mere  pretence,  to  hide  the 
purpose  of  these  meetings." 

"  It  is  more  than  that,"  said  Venier  with  a  contemp- 
tuous smile.  "  Do  you  play  ?  " 

"I  am  a  poor  artist,  sir.     I  cannot." 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  37 

.  "Ah,  I  had  forgotten.  That  is  very  interesting. 
But  pray  do  not  call  me  '  sir '  nor  use  any  formality, 
unless  we  meet  in  public.  At  the  '  Sign  of  the  Angel ' 
we  are  all  brothers.  Yes  —  yes  —  of  course  !  You  are 
a  poor  artist.  When  I  expected  to  be  obliged  to  cut 
your  throat  awhile  ago,  I  really  hoped  that  I  might  be 
able  to  fulfil  some  last  wish  of  yours." 

"I  appreciated  your  goodness."  Zorzi  laughed  a 
little  nervously,  now  that  the  danger  was  over. 

"  I  meant  it,  my  friend,  I  do  assure  you.  And  I 
mean  it  now.  One  advantage  of  the  fellowship  is  that 
one  may  offer  to  help  a  brother  in  any  way  with- 
out insulting  him.  I  am  not  as  rich  as  I  was  —  I  was 
too  fond  of  those  things  once  "  —  he  pointed  to  the  dice 
—  "  but  if  my  purse  can  serve  you,  such  as  it  is,  I  hope 
you  will  use  it  rather  than  that  of  another." 

It  was  impossible  to  be  offended,  sensitive  though 
Zorzi  was. 

44 1  thank  you  heartily,"  he  answered. 

"  It  would  be  a  curiosity  to  see  money  do  good  for 
once,"  said  Venier,  languidly  looking  towards  the 
players.  "  Contarini  is  losing  again,"  he  remarked. 

"  Does  he  generally  lose  much  at  play  ?  "  Zorzi  asked, 
trying  to  seem  indifferent. 

Venier  laughed  softly. 

"  It  is  proverbial,  4  to  lose  like  Jacopo  Contarini '  I  " 
he  answered. 

"  Tell  me,  I  beg  of  you,  are  all  the  meetings  of  the 
brotherhood  like  this  one  ?  " 

44  In  what  way  ?  "  asked  Venier  indifferently. 


38  MAKIETTA 

"  Do  you  merely  tell  each  other  the  news  of  the  day, 
and  then  play  at  dice  all  night  ?  " 

"Some  play  cards."  Venier  laughed-,  scornfully. 
"  This  is  only  the  third  of  our  secret  sittings,  I  believe, 
but  many  of  us  meet  elsewhere,  during  the  day." 

"  Our  host  said  that  the  society  made  a  pretence  of 
play  in  order  to  conspire  against  the  State,"  said  Zorzi. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  this  is  making  a  pretence  of  con- 
spiracy, with  the  chance  of  death  on  the  scaffold,  for 
the  sake  of  dice-playing." 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  think  so  too,"  answered  the 
patrician,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  looking 
thoughtfully  at  the  young  glass-blower.  "  It  is  more 
interesting  to  break  a  law  when  you  may  lose  your 
head  for  it  than  if  you  only  risk  a  fine  or  a  year's 
banishment.  I  daresay  that  seems  complicated  to  you." 

Zorzi  laughed. 

"  If  it  is  only  for  the  sake  of  the  danger,"  he  said, 
"  why  not  go  and  fight  the  Turks  ?  " 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  my  share  of  that, "  replied  Venier 
quietly.  "  So  have  some  of  the  others." 

"  Contarini  ?  "  asked  Zorzi. 

"No.     I  believe  he  has  never  seen  any  fighting." 

While  the  two  were  talking  the  play  had  proceeded 
steadily,  and  almost  in  silence.  Contarini  had  lost 
heavily  at  first  and  had  then  won  back  his  losses  and 
twice  as  much  more. 

"  That  does  not  happen  often,"  he  said,  pushing  away 
the  dice  and  leaning  back. 

Zorzi  watched  him.     The  yellow   light  of  the  wax 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  39 

candles  fell  softly  upon  his  silky  beard  and  too  perfect 
features,  and  made  splendid  shadows  in  the  scarlet  silk 
of  his  coat,  and  flashed  in  the  precious  ruby  of  the  ring 
he  wore  on  his  white  hand.  He  seemed  a  true  incar- 
nation of  his  magnificent  city,  a  century  before  the  rest 
of  all  Italy  in  luxury,  in  extravagance,  in  the  art  of 
wasteful  trifling  with  great  things  which  is  a  rich  man's 
way  of  loving  art  itself ;  and  there  were  many  others 
of  the  company  who  were  of  the  same  stamp  as  he,  but 
whose  faces  had  no  interest  for  Zorzi  compared  with 
Contarini's.  Beside  him  they  were  but  ordinary  men 
in  the  presence  of  a  young  god. 

No  woman  could  resist  such  a  man  as  that,  thought 
the  poor  waif.  It  would  be  enough  that  Marietta's 
eyes  should  rest  on  him  one  moment,  next  Sunday, 
when  he  should  be  standing  by  the  great  pillar  in  the 
church,  and  her  fate  would  be  sealed  then  and  there, 
irrevocably.  It  was  not  because  she  was  only  a  glass- 
maker's  daughter,  brought  up  in  Murano.  What  girl 
who  was  human  would  hesitate  to  accept  such  a  hus- 
band ?  Contarini  might  choose  his  wife  as  he  pleased, 
among  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  in  Italy.  One 
or  both  of  two  reasons  would  explain  why  his  choice 
had  fallen  upon  Marietta.  It  was  possible  that  he  had 
seen  her,  and  Zorzi  firmly  believed  that  no  man  could 
see  her  without  loving  her  ;  and  Angelo  Beroviero 
might  have  offered  such  an  immense  dowry  for  the  alli- 
ance as  to  tempt  Jacopo's  father.  No  one  knew  how 
rich  old  Angelo  was  since  he  had  returned  from  Flor- 
ence and  Naples,  and  many  said  that  he  possessed  the  se- 
cret of  making  gold  ;  but  Zorzi  knew  better  than  that. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  past  midnight  when  Jacopo  Contarini  barred 
the  door  of  his  house  and  was  alone.  He  took  one  of 
the  candles  from  the  inner  room,  put  out  all  the  others 
and  was  already  in  the  hall,  when  he  remembered  that 
he  had  left  his  winnings  on  the  table.  Going  back  he 
opened  the  embroidered  wallet  he  wore  at  his  belt  and 
swept  the  heap  of  heavy  yellow  coins  into  it.  As  the 
last  disappeared  into  the  bag  and  rang  upon  the  others 
he  distinctly  heard  a  sound  in  the  room.  He  started 
and  looked  about  him. 

It  was  not  exactly  the  sound  of  a  soft  footfall,  nor 
of  breathing,  but  it  might  have  been  either.  It  was 
short  and  distinct,  such  a  slight  noise  as  might  be 
made  by  drawing  the-  palm  of  the  hand  quickly  over 
a  piece  of  stuff,  or  by  a  short  breath  checked  almost 
instantly,  or  by  a  shoeless  foot  slipping  a  few  inches 
on  a  thick  carpet.  Contarini  stood  still  and  listened, 
for  though  he  had  heard  it  distinctly  he  had  no  im- 
pression of  the  direction  whence  it  had  come.  It  was 
not  repeated,  and  he  began  to  search  the  room  care- 
fully. 

He  could  find  nothing.  The  single  window,  high 
above  the  floor,  was  carefully  closed  and  covered  by 

40 


\ 
MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF   VENICE  41 

a  heavy  curtain  which  could  not  possibly  have  moved 
in  the  stillness.  The  tapestry  was  smoothly  drawn 
and  fastened  upon  the  four  walls.  There  was  no 
furniture  in  the  room  but  a  big  table  and  the  benches 
and  chairs.  Above  the  tapestries  the  bare  walls  were ' 
painted,  up  to  the  carved  ceiling.  There  was  nothing 
to  account  for  the  noise.  Contarini  looked  nervously 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  left  the  room,  and  more  than 
once  again  as  he  went  up  the  marble  staircase,  candle 
in  hand.  There  is  probably  nothing  more  disturbing 
to  people  of  ordinary  nerves  than  a  sound  heard  in  a 
lonely  place  and  for  which  it  is  impossible  to  find  a 
reason. 

When  he  reached  the  broad  landing  he  smiled  at 
himself  and  looked  back  a  last  time,  shading  the  candle 
with  his  hand,  so  as  to  throw  the  light  down  the 
staircase.  Then  he  entered  the  apartment  and  locked 
himself  in.  Having  passed  through  the  large  square 
vestibule  and  through  a  small  room  that  led  from  it, 
he  raised  the  latch  of  the  next  door  very  cautiously, 
shaded  the  candle  again  and  looked  in.  A  cool  breeze 
almost  put  out  the  light. 

"  I  am  not  asleep,"  said  a  sweet  young  voice.  "  I 
am  here  by  the  window." 

.  He  smiled  happily  at  the  words.  The  candle-light 
fell  upon  a  woman's  face,  as  he  went  forward  —  such 
a  face  as  men  may  see  in  dreams,  but  rarely  in  waking 
life. 

Half  sitting,  half  lying,  she  rested  in  Eastern  fashion 
among  the  silken  cushions  of  a  low  divan.  The  open 


42  MABIETTA 

windows  of  the  balcony  overlooked  the  low  houses 
opposite,  and  the  night  breeze  played  with  the  little 
ringlets  of  her  glorious  hair.  Her  soft  eyes  looked  up 
to  her  lover's  face  with  infinite  trustfulness,  and  their 
violet  depths  were  like  clear  crystal  and  as  tender  as 
the  twilight  of  a  perfect  day.  She  looked  at  him,  her 
head  thrown  back,  one  ivory  arm  between  it  and  the 
cushion,  the  other  hand  stretched  out  to  welcome  his. 
Her  mouth  was  like  a  southern  rose  when  there  is 
dew  on  the  smooth  red  leaves.  In  a  maze  of  creamy 
shadows,  the  fine  web  of  her  garment  followed  the 
lines  of  her  resting  limbs  in  delicate  folds,  and  one 
small  white  foot  was  quite  uncovered.  Her  fan  of 
ostrich  feathers  lay  idle  on  the  Persian  carpet. 

44 Come,  my  beloved,"  she  said.  "I  have  waited 
long." 

Contarini  knelt  down,  and  first  he  kissed  the  arching 
instep,  and  then  her  hand,  that  felt  like  a  young  dove 
just  stirring  under  his  touch,  and  his  lips  caressed  the 
satin  of  her  arm,  and  at  last,  with  a  fierce  little  choking 
cry,  they  found  her  own  that  waited  for  them,  and 
there  was  no  more  room  for  words.  In  the  silence  of 
the  June  night  one  kiss  answered  another,  and  breath 
mingled  with  breath,  and  sigh  with  sigh. 

At  last  the  young  man's  head  rested  against  her 
shoulder  among  the  cushions.  Then  the  Georgian 
woman  opened  her  eyes  slowly  and  glanced  down  at 
his  face,  while  her  hand  stroked  and  smoothed  his  hair, 
and  he  could  not  see  the  strange  smile  on  her  wonder- 
ful lips.  For  she  knew  that  he  could  not  see  it,  and 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  43 

she  let  it  come  and  go  as  it  would,  half  in  pity  and 
half  in  scorn. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  she  said,  bending  her 
head  a  little  nearer  to  his. 

"  When  I  do  not,  you  will  know  that  I  am  dead,"  he 
answered  almost  faintly,  and  he  sighed. 

"  And  then  I  shall  go  to  you,"  she  said,  but  as  she 
spoke,  she  smiled  again  to  herself.  "  I  have  heard  that 
in  old  times,  when  the  lords  of  the  earth  died,  their 
most  favourite  slaves  were  killed  upon  the  funeral  pile, 
that  their  souls  might  wait  upon  their  master's  in  the 
world  beyond." 

"Yes.     It  is  true." 

"And  so  I  will  be  your  slave  there,  as  I  am  here, 
and  the  night  that  lasts  for  ever  shall  seem  no  longer 
than  this  summer  night,  that  is  too  short  for  us." 

"  You  must  not  call  yourself  a  slave,  Arisa,"  answered 
Jacopo. 

"  What  am  I,  then  ?  You  bought  me  with  your  good 
gold  from  Aristarchi  the  Greek  captain,  in  the  slave 
market.  Your  steward  has  the  receipt  for  the  money 
among  his  accounts  !  And  there  is  the  Greek's  written 
guarantee,  too,  I  am  sure,  promising  to  take  me  back 
and  return  the  money  if  I  was  not  all  he  told  you  I 
was.  Those  are  my  documents  of  nobility,  my  patents 
of  rank,  preserved  in  your  archives  with  your  own  !  " 

She  spoke  playfully,  smiling  to  herself  as  she  stroked 
his  hair.  But  he  caught  her  hand  tenderly  and 
brought  it  to  his  lips,  holding  it  there. 

"  You  are  more  free  than  I,"  he  said.     "  Which  of  us 


44  MARIETTA 

two  is  the  slave  ?     You  who  hold  me,  or  I  who  am  held  ? 
This  little  hand  will  never  let  me  go." 

"  I  think  you  would  come  back  to  me,"  she  answered. 
"  But  if  I  ran  away,  would  you  follow  me  ?  " 

"You  will  not  run  away."  He  spoke  quietly  and 
confidently,  still  holding  her  hand,  as  if  he  were  talk- 
ing to  it,  while  he  felt  the  breath  of  her  words  upon  his 
forehead. 

"  No,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  little  silence. 

"  I  have  but  one  fear,"  he  began,  at  last.     "  If  I  we 
ruined,  what  would  become  of  you  ?  " 

"  Have  you  lost  at  play  again  to-night  ?  "  she  aske 
and  in  her  tone  there  was  a  note  of  anxiety. 

Contarini  laughed  low,  and  felt  for  the  wallet  at  his 
side.     He  held  it  up  to  show  how  heavy  it  was  with 
the  gold,  and  made  her  take  it.     She  only  kept  it  ? 
moment,  but  while  it  was  in  her  hand  her  eyelids  wer 
half  closed  as  if  she  were  guessing  at  the  weight,  fo 
he  could  not  see  her  face. 

"I  won  all  that,"  he  said.  "To-morrow  you  shall 
have  the  pearls." 

"How  good  you  are  to  me  !  But  should  you  not 
keep  the  money?  You  may  need  it.  Why  do  you 
talk  of  ruin  ?  " 

She  knew  that  he  would  give  her  all  he  had,  she 
almost  guessed  that  he  would  commit  a  crime  rather 
than  lack  gold  to  give  her. 

"  You  do  not  know  my  father  I "  he  answered. 
"  When  he  is  displeased  he  threatens  to  let  me  starve. 
He  will  cut  me  off  some  day,  and  I  shall  have  to  turn 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  46 

soldier  for  a  living.  Would  that  not  be  ruin  ?  You 
know  his  last  scheme  —  he  wishes  me  to  marry  the 
daughter  of  a  rich  glass-maker." 

"  I  know."     Arisa  laughed  contemptuously,     i'  Great 
joy  may  your  bride  have  of  you  !     Is  she  really  rich?  " 

"  Yes.     But  you  know  that  I  will  not  marry  her." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Arisa  quite  simply. 

Contarini  started  and  looked  up  at  her  face  in  the 

m  light.     She  was  bending  down  to  him  with  a  very 
,)ving  look. 

"  Why  should  you   not  marry  ? "   she    asked  again. 
,  Why  do  you  start  and  look  at  me  so  strangely  ?     Do 
ou  think  I  should  care  ?     Or  that  I  am  afraid  of  an- 
other woman  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  should   have  thought  that  you  would  be 
t  jealous."     He  still  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Jealous  !  "  she  cried,  and  as  she  laughed  she  shook 
Jicr  beautiful  head,  and  the  gold  of  her  hair  glittered 
in  the  flickering  candle-light.  "Jealous?  I?  Look 
at  me  !  Is  she  younger  than  I  ?  I  was  eighteen  years 
old  the  other  day.  If  she  is  younger  than  I,  she  is  a 
child  —  shall  I  be  jealous  of  children?  Is  she  taller, 
straighter,  handsomer  than  I  am  ?  Show  her  to  me,  and 
I  will  laugh  in  her  face  !  Can  she  sing  to  you,  as  I  sing, 
in  the  summer  nights,  the  songs  you  like  and  those  I 
learned  by  the  Kura  in  the  shadow  of  Kasbek  ?  Is  her 
hair  brighter  than  mine,  is  her  hand  softer,  is  her  step 
lighter  ?  Jealous  ?  Not  I  !  Will  your  rich  wife  be 
your  slave?  Will  she  wake  for  you,  sing  for  you, 
dance  for  you,  rise  up  and  lie  down  at  your  bidding, 


46  MARIETTA 

work  for  you,  live  for  you,  die  for  you,  as  I  will  ? 
Will  she  love  you  as  I  can  love,  caress  you  to  sleep, 
or  wake  you  with  kisses  at  your  dear  will  ?  " 

"  No  —  ah  no  !  There  is  no  woman  in  the  world  but 
you." 

"  Then  I  am  not  jealous  of  the  rest,  least  of  all,  of 
your  young  bride.  I  will  wager  with  myself  against 
all  her  gold  for  your  life,  and  I  shall  win  —  I  have 
won  already  !  Am  I  not  trying  to  persuade  you  that 
you  should  marry  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  even  seen  her.  Her  father  sent  me  a 
message  to-night,  bidding  me  go  to  church  on  Sunday 
and  stand  beside  a  certain  pillar." 

"  To  see  and  be  seen,"  laughed  Arisa.  "  It  is  not  a 
fair  exchange  !  She  will  look  at  the  handsomest  man 
in  the  world  —  hush  /  That  is  the  truth.  And  you 
will  see  a  little,  pale,  red-haired  girl  with  silly  blue 
eyes,  staring  at  you,  her  wide  mouth  open  and  her 
clumsy  hands  hanging  down.  She  will  look  like  the 
wooden  dolls  they  dress  in  the  latest  Venetian  fashion 
to  send  to  Paris  every  year,  that  the  French  courtiers 
may  know  what  to  wear  !  And  her  father  will  hurry 
her  along,  for  fear  that  you  should  look  too  long  at  her 
and  refuse  to  marry  such  a  thing,  even  for  Marco  Polo's 
millions  !  " 

Contarini  laughed  carelessly  at  the  description. 

"Give  me  some  wine,"  he  said.  "We  will  drink 
her  health." 

Arisa  rose  with  the  grace  of  a  young  goddess,  her  hair 
tumbling  over  her  bare  shoulders  in  a  splendid  golden 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  47 

confusion.  Contarini  watched  her  with  possessive 
eyes,  as  she  went  and  came  back,  bringing  him  the 
drink.  She  brought  him  yellow  wine  of  Chios  in  a 
glass  calix  of  Murano,  blown  air-thin  upon  a  slender 
stem  and  just  touched  here  and  there  with  drops  of 
tender  blue. 

"A  health  to  the  bride  of  Jacopo  Contarini !  "  she 
said,  with  a  ringing  little  laugh. 

Then  she  set  the  wine  to  her  lips,  so  that  they  were 
wet  with  it,  and  gave  him  the  glass  ;  and  as  she  stooped 
to  give  it,  her  hair  fell  forward  and  almost  hid  her  from 
him. 

"  A  health  to  the  shower  of  gold  I  "  he  said,  and  he 
drank. 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  crossing  her  feet  like  an 
Eastern  woman,  and  he  set  the  empty  glass  carelessly 
upon  the  marble  floor,  as  though  it  had  been  a  thing  of 
no  price. 

"  That  glass  was  made  at  her  father's  furnace,"  he 
said. 

"  A  pity  he  could  not  have  made  his  daughter  of 
glass  too,"  answered  Arisa. 

"  Graceful  and  silent  ?  " 

"  And  easily  destroyed  I  But  if  I  say  that,  you  will 
think  me  jealous,  and  I  am  not.  She  will  bring  you 
wealth.  I  wish  her  a  long  life,  long  enough  to  under- 
stand that  she  has  been  sold  to  you  for  your  good  name, 
like  a  slave,  as  I  was  sold,  but  that  you  gave  gold  for 
me  because  you  wanted  me  for  myself,  whereas  yotj 
want  nothing  of  her  but  her  gold." 


48  MARIETTA 

"  But  for  that  —  "  Contarini  seemed  to  be  hesitating, 
"  I  never  meant  to  marry  her,"  he  added. 

"  And  but  for  that,  you  would  not !  But  for  that ! 
But  for  the  only  thing  which  I  have  not  to  give  you  ! 
I  wish  the  world  were  mine,  with  all  the  rich  secret 
things  in  it,  the  myriads  of  millions  of  diamonds  in  the 
earth,  the  thousand  rivers  of  gold  that  lie  deep  in  the 
mountain  rocks,  and  all  mankind,  and  all  that  mankind 
has,  from  end  to  end  of  it !  Then  you  should  have  it 
all  for  your  own,  and  you  would  not  need  to  marry  the 
little  red-haired  girl  with  the  fish's  mouth  I  " 

Contarini  laughed  again. 

"Have  you  seen  her,  that  you  can  describe  her  so 
well  ?  She  may  have  black  hair.  Who  knows  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Perhaps  it  is  black,  thin  and  coarse  like  the 
hair  on  a  mule's  tail ;  and  she  has  black  eyes,  like  ripe 
olives  set  in  the  white  of  a  hard-boiled  egg  ;  and  she 
has  a  dark  skin  like  Spanish  leather  which  shines  when 
she  is  hot  and  is  grey  when  she  is  cold  ;  and  a  black 
down  on  her  upper  lip  ;  and  teeth  like  a  young  horse. 
I  hate  those  dark  women  !  " 

"  But  you  have  never  seen  her  !  She  may  be  very 
pretty." 

"  Pretty,  then  !  She  shall  be  as  you  choose.  She 
shall  have  a  round  face,  round  eyes,  a  round  nose  and 
a  round  mouth  !  Her  face  shall  be  pink  and  white,  her 
eyes  shall  be  of  blue  glass  and  her  hair  shall  be  as  smooth 
and  yellow  as  fresh  butter.  She  shall  have  little  fat 
white  hands  like  a  healthy  baby,  a  double  chin  and 
a  short  waist.  Then  she  will  be  what  people  call 
pretty." 


A   MAID  OF   VENICE  49 

•  "  Yes,"  assented  Jacopo.  "  That  is  very  amusing. 
But  just  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  discussion  —  it  is 
impossible,  of  course,  but  suppose  it  —  that  instead  of 
there  being  only  one  perfectly  beautiful  woman  in  the 
world,  whose  name  is  Arisa,  there  should  be  two,  and 
that  the  name  of  the  other  chanced  to  be  Marietta 
Beroviero." 

Arisa  raised  her  eyes  and  gazed  steadily  at  Jacopo. 

"  You  have  seen  her,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  convic- 
tion. "She  is  beautiful." 

"No.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  have  not  seen 
her.  I  only  wanted  to  know  what  you  would  do  then." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  any  woman  is  as  beautiful  as 
I  am,"  answered  the  Georgian,  with  the  quiet  simplic- 
ity of  a  savage. 

"  But  if  there  were  one,  and  you  saw  her  ?  "  insisted 
the  man,  to  see  what  she  would  say. 

"  We  could  not  both  live.  One  of  us  would  kill  the 
other." 

"I  believe  you  would,"  said  Jacopo,  watching  her 
face. 

She  had  forgotten  his  presence  while  she  spoke  ;  a 
fierce  hardness  had  come  into  her  eyes,  and  her  upper 
lip  was  a  little  raised,  in  a  cruel  expression,  just  show- 
ing her  teeth.  He  was  surprised. 

"  I  never  saw  you  like  that,"  he  said. 

"  You   should  not  make  me  think  of  killing,"  she 
answered,  suddenly  leaving  her  seat  and  kneeling  be- 
side him  on  the  divan.     "  It  is  not  good  to  think  too 
much  of  killing  —  it  makes  one  wish  to  do  it." 
E 


50  MARIETTA 

"  Then  try  and  kill  me  with  kisses,"  he  said,  looking 
into  her  eyes,  that  were  growing  tender  again. 

"You  would  not  know  you  were  dying,"  she  whis- 
pered, her  lips  quite  close  to  his. 

As  she  kissed  him,  she  loosened  the  collar  from  his 
white  throat,  and  smoothed  his  thick  hair  back  from 
his  forehead  upon  the  pillow,  and  she  saw  how  pale  he 
was,  under  her  touch. 

But  by  and  by  he  fell  asleep,  and  then  she  very 
softly  drew  her  arm  from  beneath  his  tired  head,  and 
slipped  from  his  side,  and  stood  up,  with  a  little  sigh 
of  relief.  The  candle  had  burned  to  the  socket ;  she 
blew  it  out. 

It  was  still  an  hour  before  dawn  when  she  left  the 
room,  lifting  the  heavy  curtain  that  hung  before  the  door 
of  her  inner  chamber.  There,  a  faint  light  was  burning 
before  a  shrine  in  a  silver  cup  filled  with  oil.  -As  she 
fastened  the  door  noiselessly  behind  her,  a  man  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  lifting  her  off  her  feet  like  a  child. 

Shaggy  black  hair  grew  low  upon  his  bossy  forehead, 
his  dark  eyes  were  fierce  and  bloodshot,  a  rough  beard 
only  half  concealed  the  huge  jaw  and  iron  lips.  He 
was  half  clad,  in  shirt  and  hose,  and  the  muscles  of  his 
neck  and  arms  stood  out  like  brown  ropes  as  he  pressed 
the  beautiful  creature  to  his  broad  chest. 

"I  thought  he  would  never  sleep  to-night,"  she 
whispered. 

Her  eyelids  drooped,  and  her  cheeks  grew  deadly 
white,  and  the  strong  man  felt  the  furious  beating  of 
her  heart  against  his  own  breast.  He  was  Aristarchi, 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  51 

the  Greek  captain  who  had  sold  her  for  a  slave,  and 
she  loved  him. 

In  the  wild  days  of  sea-fighting  among  the  Greek 
islands  he  had  taken  a  small  trading  galley  that  had 
been  driven  out  of  her  course.  He  left  not  a  man  of 
her  crew  alive  to  tell  whether  she  had  been  Turkish  or 
Christian,  and  he  took  all  that  was  worth  taking  of  her 
poor  cargo.  The  only  prize  of  any  price  was  the  cap- 
tive Georgian  girl  who  was  being  brought  westward  to 
be  sold,  like  thousands  of  others  in  those  days,  with 
little  concealment  and  no  mystery,  in  one  of  the  slave 
markets  of  northern  Italy.  Aristarchi  claimed  her  for 
himself,  as  his  share  of  the  booty,  but  his  men  knew 
her  value.  Standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  between 
him  and  her,  they  drew  their  knives  and  threatened 
to  cut  her  to  pieces,  if  he  would  not  promise  to  sell  her 
as  she  was,  when  they  should  come  to  land,  and  share 
the  price  with  them.  They  judged  that  she  must  be 
worth  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  pieces  of  gold,  for 
she  was  more  beautiful  than  any  woman  they  had  ever 
seen,  and  they  had  already  heard  her  singing  most 
sweetly  to  herself,  as  if  she  were  quite  sure  that  she 
was  in  no  danger,  because  she  knew  her  own  value. 
So  Aristarchi  was  forced  to  consent,  cursing  them; 
and  night  and  day  they  guarded  her  door  against  him, 
till  they  had  brought  her  safe  to  Venice,  and  delivered 
her  to  the  slave -dealers. 

Then  Aristarchi  sold  all  that  he  had,  except  his  ship, 
and  it  all  brought  far  too  little  to  buy  such  a  slave. 
She  would  have  gone  with  him,  for  she  had  seen  that 


52  MARIETTA 

he  was  stronger  than  other  men  and  feared  neither  God 
nor  man,  but  she  was  well  guarded,  and  he  was  only 
allowed  to  talk  with  her  through  a  grated  window, 
like  those  at  convent  gates. 

She  was  not  long  in  the  dealers'  house,  for  word  was 
brought  to  all  the  young  patricians  of  Venice,  and 
many  of  them  bid  against  each  other  for  her,  in  the 
dealers*  inner  room,  till  Contarini  outbid  them  all,  say- 
ing that  he  could  not  live  without  her,  though  the  price 
should  ruin  him,  and  because  he  had  not  enough  gold 
he  gave  the  dealers,  besides  money,  a  marvellous  sword 
with  a  jewelled  hilt,  which  one  of  his  forefathers  had 
taken  at  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  and  which  some 
said  had  belonged  to  the  Emperor  Justinian  himself, 
nine  hundred  years  ago. 

Then  Aristarchi  and  his  men  paid  the  dealers  their 
commission  and  took  the  money  and  the  sword.  But 
before  he  went  from  the  house,  the  Greek  captain 
begged  leave  to  see  Arisa  once  more  at  the  grating, 
and  he  told  her  that  come  what  might  he  should  steal 
her  away.  She  bade  him  not  to  be  in  too  great  haste, 
and  she  promised  that  if  he  would  wait,  he  should  have 
with  her  more  gold  than  her  new  master  had  given  for 
her,  for  she  would  take  all  he  had  from  him,  little  by 
little  ;  and  when  they  had  enough  they  would  leave 
Venice  secretly,  and  live  in  a  grand  manner  hi  Flor- 
ence, or  in  Rome,  or  in  Sicily.  For  she  never  doubted 
but  that  he  would  find  some  way  of  coming  to  her, 
though  she  were  guarded  more  closely  than  in  the 
slave-dealers'  house,  where  the  windows  were  grated 


A   MAID  OF   VENICE 

and  armed  men  slept  before  the  door,  and  one  of  the 
dealers  watched  all  night. 

More  than  a  year  had  passed  since  then  ;  the  strong 
Greek  knew  every  corner  of  the  house  of  the  Agnus 
Dei,  and  every  foothold  under  Arisa's  windows,  from 
the  water  to  the  stone  sill,  by  which  he  could  help 
himself  a  little  as  he  went  up  hand  over  hand  by  the 
knotted  silk  rope  that  would  have  cut  to  the  bone  any 
hands  but  his.  She  kept  it  hidden  in  a  cushioned  foot- 
stool in  her  inner  room.  Many  a  risk  he  had  run,  and 
more  than  once  in  winter  he  had  slipped  down  the  rope 
with  haste  to  let  himself  gently  into  the  icy  water,  and 
he  had  swum  far  down  the  dark  canal  to  a  landing- 
place.  For  he  was  a  man  of  iron. 

So  it  came  about  that  Jacopo  Contarini  lived  in  a 
fool's  paradise,  in  which  he  was  not  only  the  chief  fool 
himself,  but  was  moreover  in  bodily  danger  more  often 
than  he  knew.  For  though  Aristarchi  had  hitherto 
managed  to  escape  being  seen,  he  would  have  killed 
Jacopo  with  his  naked  hands  if  the  latter  had  ever 
caught  him,  as  easily  as  a  boy  wrings  a  bird's  neck, 
and  with  as  little  scruple  of  conscience. 

The  Georgian  loved  him  for  his  hirsute  strength, 
for  his  fearlessness,  even  his  violence  and  dangerous 
temper.  He  dominated  her  as  naturaljy  as  she  con- 
trolled her  master,  whose  vacillating  nature  and  love 
of  idle  ease  filled  her  with  contempt.  It  was  for  the 
sake  of  gold  that  she  acted  her  part  daily  and  nightly, 
with  a  wisdom  and  unwavering  skill  that  were  almost 
superhuman ;  and  the  Greek  ruffian  agreed  to  the 


54  MARIETTA 

bargain,  and  had  been  in  no  haste  to  carry  her  off,  as 
he  might  have  done  at  any  time.  She  hoarded  the 
money  she  got  from  Jacopo,  to  give  it  by  stealth  to 
Aristarchi,  who  hid  their  growing  wealth  in  a  safe 
place  where  it  was  always  ready ;  but  she  kept  her 
jewels  always  together,  in  case  of  an  unexpected  flight, 
since  she  dared  not  sell  them  nor  give  them  to  the 
Greek,  lest  they  should  be  missed. 

Of  late  it  had  seemed  to  them  both  that  the  time  for 
their  final  action  was  at  hand,  for  it  had  been  clear  to 
Arisa  that  Jacopo  was  near  the  end  of  his  resources, 
and  that  his  father  was  resolved  to  force  him  to  change 
his  life.  There  were  days  when  he  was  reduced  to 
borrowing  money  for  his  actual  needs,  and  though 
an  occasional  stroke  of  good  fortune  at  play  tempo- 
rarily relieved  him,  Arisa  was  sure  that  he  was  con- 
stantly sinking  deeper  into  debt.  But  within  the 
week,  the  aspect  of  his  affairs  had  changed.  The 
marriage  with  Marietta  had  been  proposed,  and  Arisa 
had  made  a  discovery.  She  told  Aristarchi  everything, 
as  naturally  as  she  would  have  concealed  everything 
from  Contarini. 

"  We  shall  be  rich,"  she  said,  twining  her  white 
arms  round  his  swarthy  neck  and  looking  up  into  his 
murderous  eyes  with  something  like  genuine  adora- 
tion. "  We  shall  get  the  wife's  dowry  for  ourselves, 
by  degrees,  every  farthing  of  it,  and  it  shall  be  the 
dower  of  Aristarchi's  bride  instead.  I  shall  not  be 
portionless.  You  shall  not  be  ashamed  of  me  when 
you  meet  your  old  friends." 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  55 

"Ashamed!"  His  arm  pressed  her  to  him  till  she 
longed  to  cry  out  for  pain,  yet  she  would  not  have  had 
him  less  rough. 

"  You  are  so  strong  !  "  she  gasped  in  a  broken  whis- 
per. "  Yes  —  a  little  looser  —  so  !  I  can  speak  now. 
You  must  go  to  Murano  to-morrow  and  find  out  all 
about  this  Angelo  Beroviero  and  his  daughter.  Try  to 
see  her,  and  tell  me  whether  she  is  pretty,  but  most  of 
all  learn  whether  she  is  really  rich." 

"  That  is  easy  enough.  I  will  go  to  the  furnace  and 
offer  to  buy  a  cargo  of  glass  for  Sicily." 

"  But  you  will  not  take  it  ?  "  asked  Arisa  in  sudden 
anxiety  lest  he  should  leave  her  to  make  the  voyage. 

"  No,  no  !  I  will  make  inquiries.  I  will  ask  for  a 
sort  of  glass  that  does  not  exist." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  reassured.  "Do  that.  I  must 
know  if  the  girl  is  rich  before  I  marry  him  to  her." 

"  But  can  you  make  him  marry  her  at  all  ?  "  asked 
Aristarchi. 

"  I  can  make  him  do  anything  I  please.  We  drank 
to  the  health  of  the  bride  to-night,  in  a  goblet  made 
by  her  father  !  The  wine  was  strong,  and  I  put  a 
little  syrup  of  poppies  into  it.  He  will  not  wake  for 
hours.  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

She  felt  the  rough  man  shaking  beside  her,  as  if  he 
were  in  an  ague. 

"I  was  laughing,"  he  said,  when  he  could  speak. 
"  It  is  a  good  jest.  But  is  there  no  danger  in  all  this  ? 
Is  it  quite  impossible  that  he  should  take  a  liking  for 
his  wife  ?  " 


66  MARIETTA 

"  And  leave  me  ?  "  Arisa's  whisper  was  hot  with 
indignation  at  the  mere  thought.  "Then  I  suppose 
you  would  leave  me  for  the  first  pretty  girl  with  a  for- 
tune who  wanted  to  marry  you  !  " 

"  This  Contarini  is  such  a  fool  !  "  answered  Aris- 
tarchi  contemptuously,  by  way  of  explanation  and 
apology. 

Arisa  was  instantly  pacified. 

"  If  he  should  be  foolish  enough  for  that,  I  have 
means  that  will  keep  him,"  she  answered. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  force  him  to  do  anything 
except  by  his  passion  for  you." 

"lean.  I  was  not  going  to  tell  you  yet  —  you 
always  make  me  tell  you  everything,  like  a  child." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  Greek.  "  Have  you  found 
out  anything  new  about  him  ?  Of  course  you  must 
tell  me." 

"  We  hold  his  life  in  our  hands,"  she  said  quietly, 
and  Aristarchi  knew  that  she  was  not  exaggerating  the 
truth. 

She  began  to  tell  him  how  this  was  the  third  time 
that  a  number  of  masked  men  had  come  to  the  house 
an  hour  after  dark,  and  had  stayed  till  midnight  or 
later,  and  how  Contarini  had  told  her  that  they  came 
to  play  at  dice  where  they  were  safe  from  interruption, 
and  that  on  these  nights  the  servants  were  sent  to  their 
quarters  at  sunset  on  pain  of  dismissal  if  Jacopo  found 
them  about  the  house,  but  that  they  also  received  gen- 
erous presents  of  money  to  keep  them  silent. 

"  The  man  is  a  fool  !  "  said  Aristarchi  again.  "  He 
puts  himself  in  their  power." 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  57 

'  "He  is  much  more  completely  in  ours,"  answered 
Arisa.  "  The  servants  believe  that  his  friends  come  to 
play  dice.  And  so  they  do.  But  they  come  for  some- 
thing more  serious." 

Aristarchi  moved  his  massive  head  suddenly  to  an 
attitude  of  profound  attention. 

44  They  are  plotting  against  the  Republic,"  whispered 
Arisa.  "I  can  hear  all  they  say." 

44  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

44 1  tell  you  I  can  hear  every  word.  I  can  almost 
see  them.  Look  here.  Come  with  me." 

She  rose  and  he  followed  her  to  the  corner  of  the 
room  where  the  small  silver  lamp  burned  steadily  be- 
fore an  image  of  Saint  Mark,  and  above  a  heavy 
kneeling-stool. 

44  The  foot  moves,"  she  said,  and  she  was  already  on 
her  knees  on  the  floor,  pushing  the  step. 

It  slid  back  with  the  soft  sound  Contarini  had  heard 
before  he  came  upstairs.  The  upper  part  of  the  wood- 
work was  built  into  the  wall. 

44  They  meet  in  the  place  below  this,"  Arisa  said. 
44  When  they  are  there,  I  can  see  a  glimmer  of  light. 
I  cannot  get  my  head  in.  It  is  too  narrow,  but  I  hear 
as  if  I  were  with  them." 

44 How  did  you  find  this  out?"  asked  Aristarchi  on 
the  floor  beside  her,  and  reaching  down  into  the  dark 
space  to  explore  it  with  his  hand.  44  It  is  deep,"  he 
continued,  without  waiting  for  an  answer.  44  There 
may  be  some  passage  by  which  one  can  get  down." 

44  Only  a  child  could  pass.     You  see  how  narrow  it 


58  MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF   VENICE 

is.  But  one  can  hear  every  sound.  They  said  enough 
to-night  to  send  them  all  to  the  scaffold." 

"  Better  they  than  we  if  we  ever  have  to  make  the 
choice,"  said  the  Greek  ominously. 

He  had  withdrawn  his  arm  and  was  planted  upon 
his  hands  and  knees,  his  shaggy  head  hanging  over 
the  dark  aperture.  He  was  like  some  rough  wild  beast 
that  has  tracked  its  quarry  to  earth  and  crouches  be- 
fore the  hole,  waiting  for  a  victim. 

"How  did  you  find  this  out?"  he  asked  again, 
looking  up. 

She  was  standing  by  the  corner  of  the  stool,  now, 
all  her  marvellous  beauty  showing  in  the  light  of  the 
little  lamp  and  against  the  wall  behind  her. 

"  I  was  saying  my  prayers  here,  the  first  night  they 
met,"  she  said,  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world.  "I  heard  voices,  as  it  seemed,  under  my 
feet.  I  tried  to  push  away  the  stool,  and  the  foot 
moved.  That  is  all." 

Aristarchi's  jaw  dropped  a  little  as  he  looked  up  at  her* 

"Do  you  say  prayers  every  night?'*  he  asked  in 
wonder. 

"  Of  course  I  do.     Do  you  never  say  a  prayer  ?  " 

"  No."     He  was  still  staring  at  her. 

"  That  is  very  wrong,"  she  said,  in  the  earnest  tone 
a  mother  might  use  to  her  little  child.  "  Some  harm 
will  befall  us,  if  you  do  not  say  your  prayers." 

A  slow  smile  crossed  the  ruffian's  face  as  he  real- 
ised that  this  evil  woman  who  was  ready  to  commit 
the  most  atrocious  deeds  out  of  love  for  him,  was  still 
half  a  child. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MARIETTA  awoke  before  sunrise,  with  a  smile  on 
her  lips,  and  as  she  opened  her  eyes,  the  world  seemed 
suddenly  gladder  than  ever  before,  and  her  heart  beat 
in  time  with  it.  She  threw  back  the  shutters  wide 
to  let  in  the  June  morning  as  if  it  were  a  beautiful 
living  thing ;  and  it  breathed  upon  her  face  and  ca- 
ressed her,  and  took  her  in  its  spirit  arms,  and  filled 
her  with  itself. 

Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness,  as  she  looked  out, 
and  the  glassy  waters  of  the  canal  reflected  delicate 
tints  from  the  sky,  palest  green  and  faintest  violet 
and  amber  with  all  the  lovely  changing  colours  of  the 
dawn.  By  the  footway  a  black  barge  was  moored, 
piled  high  with  round  uncovered  baskets  of  beads, 
white,  blue,  deep  red  and  black,  waiting  to  be  taken 
over  to  Venice  where  they  would  be  threaded  for  the 
East,  and  the  colours  stood  out  in  strong  contrast 
with  the  grey  stones,  the  faint  reflections  in  the  water 
and  the  tender  sky  above.  There  were  flowers  on  the 
window-sill,  a  young  rose  with  opening  buds,  grow- 
ing in  a  red  earthen  jar,  and  a  pot  of  lavender  just 
bursting  into  flower,  with  a  sweet  geranium  beside  it 
and  some  rosemary.  Zorzi  had  planted  them  all  for 

59 


60  MARIETTA 

her,  and  her  serving-woman  had  helped  her  to  fasten 
the  pots  in  the  window,  because  it  would  have  been 
out  of  the  question  that  any  man  except  her  father 
should  enter  her  room,  even  when  she  was  not  there. 
But  they  were  Zorzi's  flowers,  and  she  bent  down  and 
smelt  their  fragrance.  On  a  table  behind  her  a  single 
rose  hung  over  the  edge  of  a  tall  glass  with  a  slender 
stem,  almost  the  counterpart  of  the  one  in  which  Con- 
tarini  had  drunk  her  health  at  midnight.  Her  father 
had  given  it  to  her  as  it  came  from  the  annealing  oven, 
still  warm  after  long  hours  of  cooling  with  many 
others  like  it.  She  loved  it  for  its  grace  and  lightness, 
and  as  for  the  rose,  it  was  the  one  she  had  made  Zorzi 
give  back  to  her  yesterday.  She  meant  to  keep  it  in 
water  till  it  faded,  and  then  she  would  press  it  between 
the  first  page  and  the  binding  of  her  parchment  missal. 
It  would  keep  some  of  its  faint  scent,  perhaps,  and 
if  any  one  saw  it,  no  one  would  ever  guess  whence  it 
came. 

It  meant  a  great  thing  to  her,  for  it  had  told  her 
Zorzi's  secret,  which  he  had  kept  so  well.  He  should 
know  hers  some  day,  but  not  yet,  and  her  drooping  lids 
could  hide  it  if  it  ever  came  into  her  eyes.  It  was  too 
soon  to  let  him  know  that  she  loved  him.  That  was 
one  reason  for  hiding  it,  but  she  had  another.  If  her 
father  guessed  that  she  loved  the  waif,  it  would  fare  ill 
with  him.  She  fancied  she  could  see  the  old  man's 
fiery  brown  eyes  and  hear  his  angry  voice.  Poor  Zorzi 
would  foe  driven  from  Murano  and  Venice,  never  to  set 
foot  again  within  the  boundaries  of  the  Republic  ;  foi 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  61 

Beroviero  was  a  man  of  weight  and  influence,  of  whom 
Venice  was  proud. 

Youth  would  be  very  sad  if  it  counted  time  and  labour 
as  it  is  reckoned  and  valued  by  mature  age.  Some  day 
Zorzi  would  be  no  longer  a  mere  paid  helper,  calling 
himself  a  servant  when  his  humour  was  bitter,  tending 
a  fire  on  his  knees  and  grinding  coloured  earths  and 
salts  in  a  mortar.  He  had  the  understanding  of  the 
glorious  art,  and  the  true  love  of  it,  with  the  magic 
touch  ;  he  would  make  a  name  for  himself  in  spite  of 
the  harsh  Venetian  law,  and  some  day  his  master  would 
be  proud  to  call  him  son.  There  would  not  be  many 
months  to  wait.  Months  or  years,  what  mattered,  since 
she  loved  him  and  was  at  last  quite  sure  that  he  loved 
her  ?  To-day,  that  was  enough.  She  would  go  over 
to  the  glass-house  and  sit  in  the  garden,  by  the  rose  he 
had  planted,  and  now  and  then  she  would  go  into  the 
close  furnace  room  where  he  worked  with  her  father,  or 
Zorzi  would  come  out  for  something ;  she  should  be 
near  him,  she  should  see  his  face  and  hear  his  quiet 
voice,  and  she  would  say  to  herself :  He  loves  me,  he 
loves  me  —  as  often  as  she  chose,  knowing  that  it  was 
true. 

Since  she  knew  it,  she  was  sure  that  she  should  see  it 
in  his  face,  that  had  hidden  it  from  her  so  long.  There 
would  be  glances  when  he  thought  she  was  not  watch- 
ing him,  his  colour  would  come  and  go,  as  yesterday, 
and  he  would  do  her  some  little  service,  now  and  then, 
in  which  the  sweet  truth,  against  his  will,  should  tell 
itself  to  her  again  and  again.  It  would  be  a  delicious 


62  MARIETTA 

and  ever-remembered  day,  each  minute  a  pearl,  each 
hour  a  chaplet  of  jewels,  from  golden  sunrise  to  golden 
sunset,  all  perfect  through  and  through. 

There  were  so  many  little  things  she  could  watch  in 
him,  now  that  she  knew  the  truth,  things  that  had  long 
meant  nothing  and  would  mean  volumes  to-day.  She 
would  watch  him,  and  then  call  him  suddenly  and  see 
him  try  to  hide  the  little  gladness  he  would  feel  as  he 
turned  to  her ;  and  when  they  were  alone  a  moment, 
she  would  ask  him  whether  he  had  remembered  to  for- 
get Jacopo  Contarini's  name  ;  and  some  day,  but  not 
for  a  long  time  yet,  she  would  drop  a  rose  again,  and 
she  would  turn  as  he  picked  it  up,  but  she  would  not 
make  him  give  it  back  to  her,  and  in  that  way  he  should 
know  that  she  loved  him.  She  must  not  think  of  that, 
for  it  was  too  soon,  yet  she  could  almost  see  his  face  as 
it  would  be  when  he  knew. 

Yesterday  her  father  had  talked  again  of  her  marriage. 
A  whole  month  had  passed  since  he  had  even  alluded  to 
it,  but  this  time  he  had  spoken  of  it  as  a  certainty ;  and 
she  had  opened  her  eyes  wide  in  surprise.  She  did  not 
believe  that  it  was  to  be.  How  could  she  marry  a  man 
she  did  not  love  ?  How  could  she  love  any  man  but 
Zorzi  ?  They  might  show  her  twenty  Venetian  patri- 
cians, that  she  might  choose  among  them.  Meanwhile 
she  would  show  her  indifference.  Nothing  was  easier 
than  to  put  on  an  inscrutable  expression  which  betrayed 
nothing,  but  which,  as  she  knew,  sometimes  irritated 
her  father  beyond  endurance. 

He  had  always  promised  that  she  should  not  be  married 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  63 

against  her  will,  as  many  girls  were.  Then  why  should 
she  niarry  Contarini,  any  more  than  any  other  man  ex- 
cept the  one  she  had  chosen  ?  She  need  only  say  that 
Contarini  did  not  please  her,  and  her  father  would  cer- 
tainly not  try  to  use  force.  There  was  therefore  noth- 
ing to  fear,  and  since  her  first  surprise  was  over,  she 
felt  sure  of  appearing  quite  indifferent.  She  would  put 
the  thought  out  of  her  mind  and  begin  the  day  with 
the  perfect  certainty  that  the  marriage  was  altogether 
impossible. 

She  looked  out  over  her  flowers.  The  door  of  the 
glass-house  was  open  now,  and  the  burly  porter  was 
sweeping ;  she  could  hear  the  cypress  broom  on  the 
flagstones  inside,  and  presently  it  appeared  in  sight 
while  the  porter  was  still  invisible,  and  it  whisked  out 
a  mixture  of  black  dust  and  bread  crumbs  and  bits  of 
green  salad  leaves,  and  the  old  man  came  out  and  swept 
everything  across  the  footway  into  the  canal.  As  he 
turned  to  go  back,  the  workmen  came  trooping  across 
the  bridge  to  the  furnaces — pale  men  with  intent  faces, 
very  different  from  ordinary  working  people.  For  each 
called  himself  an  artist,  and  was  one  ;  and  each  knew 
that  so  far  as  the  law  was  concerned  the  proudest  noble 
in  Venice  could  marry  his  daughter  without  the  least 
derogation  from  patrician  dignity.  The  workmen  dif- 
fered from  her  own  father  not  in  station,  but  only  in 
the  degree  of  their  prosperity. 

If  Zorzi  could  ever  have  been  one  of  them  the  rest 
would  have  been  simple  enough.  But  he  could  not, 
any  more  than  a  black  man  could  turn  white  at  will. 


64  MARIETTA 

There  was  no  evasion  of  law  by  which  a  man  not  born 
a  Venetian  could  ever  be  a  glass-blower,  or  could  ever 
acquire  the  privileges  possessed  from  birth  by  one  of 
those  shabby,  pale  young  men  who  were  crowding  past 
,the  porter  to  go  to  their  hard  day's  work.  Yet  dexter- 
ous as  they  were,  there  was  not  one  that  had  his  skill, 
there  was  not  one  that  could  compare  with  him  as  an 
artist,  as  a  workman,  as  a  man.  No  Indian  caste,  no 
ancient  nobility,  no  mystic  priesthood  ever  set  up  a 
barrier  so  impassable  between  itself  and  the  outer  world 
as  that  which  defended  the  glass-blowers  of  Murano  for 
centuries  against  all  who  wished  to  be  initiated.  Even 
the  boys  who  fed  the  fires  all  night  were  of  the  calling, 
and  by  and  by  would  become  workmen,  and  perhaps 
masters,  legally  almost  the  equals  of  the  splendid  nobles 
who  sat  in  the  Grand  Council  over  there  in  Venice. 

Zorzi's  very  existence  was  an  anomaly.  He  had  no 
social  right  to  be  what  he  was,  and  he  knew  it  when  he 
called  himself  a  servant,  for  the  cruel  law  would  not 
allow  him  to  be  anything  else  so  long  as  he  helped 
Angelo  Beroviero. 

Suddenly,  while  Marietta  watched  the  men,  Zorzi  was 
there  among  them,  coming  out  as  they  went  in.  He 
must  have  risen  early,  she  thought,  for  she  did  not  know 
that  he  had  slept  in  the  laboratory.  He  looked  pale 
and  thin  as  he  flattened  himself  against  the  door-post 
to  let  a  workman  pass,  and  then  slipped  out  himself. 
No  one  greeted  him,  even  by  a  nod.  Marietta  knew 
that  they  hated  him  because  he  was  in  her  father's  con- 
fidence ;  and  somehow,  instead  of  pitying  him,  she  was 
glad. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  65 

.  It  seemed  natural  that  he  should  not  be  one  of 
them,  that  he  should  pass  them  with  quiet  indiffer- 
ence and  that  they  should  feel  for  him  the  instinctive 
dislike  which  most  inferiors  feel  for  those  above  them. 
Doubtless,  they  looked  down  upon  him,  or  told  them- 
selves that  they  did;  but  in  their  hearts  they  knew 
that  a  man  with  such  a  face  was  born  to  be  their 
teacher  and  their  master,  and  the  girl  was  proud  of 
him.  He  treated  them  with  more  civility  than  they 
bestowed  on  him,  but  it  was  the  courtesy  of  a  superior 
who  would  not  assert  himself,  who  would  scorn  to 
thrust  himself  forward  or  in  any  way  to  claim  what 
was  his  by  right,  if  it  were  not  freely  offered.  Mari- 
etta drew  back  a  little,  so  that  she  could  just  see  him 
between  the  flowers,  without  being  seen. 

He  stood  still,  looking  down  at  the  canal  till  the  last 
of  the  men  had  passed  in.  Then,  before  he  went  on, 
he  raised  his  eyes  slowly  to  Marietta's  window,  not 
guessing  that  her  own  were  answering  his  from  behind 
the  rosemary  and  the  geranium.  His  pale  face  was 
very  sad  and  thoughtful  as  he  looked  up.  She  had 
never  seen  him  look  so  tired.  The  porter  had  shut 
the  door,  which  he  never  allowed  to  remain  open  one 
moment  longer  than  was  absolutely  necessary,  and 
Zorzi  stood  quite  alone  on  the  footway.  As  he 
looked,  his  face  softened  and  grew  so  tender  that  the 
girl  who  watched  him  unseen  stretched  out  her  arms 
towards  him  with  unconscious  yearning,  and  her  heart 
beat  very  fast,  so  that  she  felt  the  pulses  in  her  throat 
almost  choking  her ;  yet  her  face  was  pale  and  her  soft 
F 


MARIETTA 

lips  were  dry  and  cold.  For  it  was  not  all  happiness 
that  she  felt;  there  was  a  sweet  mysterious  pain  with 
it,  which  was  nowhere,  and  yet  all  through  her,  that 
was  weakness  and  yet  might  turn  to  strength,  a  hunger 
of  longing  for  something  dear  and  unknown  and  divine, 
without  which  all  else  was  an  empty  shadow.  Then 
her  eyes  opened  to  him,  as  he  had  never  seen  them, 
blue  as  the  depth  of  sapphires  and  dewy  with  love 
mists  of  youth's  early  spring;  it  was  impossible  that 
he  should  stand  there,  just  beyond  the  narrow  water, 
and  not  feel  that  she  saw  him  and  loved  him,  and  that 
her  heart  was  crying  out  the  true  words  he  never  hoped 
to  hear. 

But  be  did  not  know.  And  all  at  once  his  eyes  fell, 
and  she  could  almost  see  that  he  sighed  as  he  turned 
wearily  away  and  walked  with  bent  head  towards  the 
wooden  bridge.  She  would  have  given  anything  to 
look  out  and  see  him  cross  and  come  nearer,  but  she 
remembered  that  she  was  not  yet  dressed,  and  she 
blushed  as  she  drew  further  back  into  the  room,  gath- 
ering the  thin  white  linen  up  to  her  throat,  and  fright- 
ened at  the  mere  thought  that  he  should  catch  sight 
of  her.  She  would  not  call  her  serving-woman  yet, 
she  would  be  alone  a  little  while  longer.  She  threw 
back  her  russet  hair,  and  bent  down  to  smell  the  rose 
in  the  tall  glass.  The  sun  was  risen  now  and  the  first 
slanting  beams  shot  sideways  through  her  window  from 
the  right.  The  day  that  was  to  be  so  sweet  had  begun 
most  sweetly.  She  had  seen  him  already,  far  earlier 
than  usual ;  she  would  see  him  many  times  before  the 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  6J 

little  brown  maid  crossed  the  canal  to  bring  her  home 
in  the  evening. 

The  thought  put  an  end  to  her  meditations,  and  she 
was  suddenly  in  haste  to  be  dressed,  to  be  out  of  the 
house,  to  be  sitting  in  the  little  garden  of  the  glass- 
house where  Zorzi  must  soon  pass  again.  She  called 
and  clapped  her  hands,  and  her  serving- woman  entered 
from  the  outer  room  in  which  she  slept.  She  brought 
a  great  painted  earthenware  dish,  on  which  fruit  was 
arranged,  half  of  a  small  yellow  melon  fresh  from  the 
cool  storeroom,  a  little  heap  of  dark  red  cherries  and  a 
handful  of  ripe  plums.  There  was  white  wheaten 
bread,  too,  and  honey  from  Aquileia,  in  a  little  glass 
jar,  and  there  was  a  goblet  of  cold  water.  The  maid 
set  the  big  dish  on  the  table,  beside  the  glass  that  held 
Zorzi's  rose,  and  began  to  make  ready  her  mistress's 
clothes. 

Marietta  tasted  the  melon,  and  it  was  cool  and  aro- 
matic, and  she  stood  eating  a  slice  of  it,  just  where  she 
could  look  through  the  flowers  on  the  window-sill  at 
the  door  of  the  glass-house,  so  that  if  Zorzi  passed  again 
she  should  see  him.  He  did  not  come,  and  she  was  a 
little  disappointed ;  but  the  melon  was  very  good,  and 
afterwards  she  ate  a  few  cherries  and  spread  a  spoonful 
of  honey  on  a  piece  of  bread,  and  nibbled  at  it;  and 
she  drank  some  of  the  water,  looking  out  of  the  window 
over  the  glass. 

"  Was  it  always  so  beautiful  ?  "  she  asked,  speaking 
to  herself,  in  a  sort  of  wonder  at  what  she  felt,  as  she 
set  the  glass  upon  the  table. 


38  HIABIETTA 

Nella,  the  maid,  turned  quickly  to  her  with  a  look  of 
inquiry. 

"What?"  she  asked.  "What  is  beautiful?  The 
weather?  It  is  summer  I  Of  course  it  is  fine.  Did 
you  expect  the  north  wind  to-day,  or  rain  from  the 
southwest?" 

Marietta  laughed,  sweet  and  low.  The  little  maid 
always  amused  her.  There  was  something  cheerful 
in  the  queer  little  scolding  sentences,  spoken  with  a 
rising  inflection  on  almost  every  word,  musical  and 
yet  always  seeming  to  protest  gently  against  anything 
Marietta  said. 

"I  know  of  something  much  more  beautiful  than  the 
weather,"  Nella  added,  seeing  that  she  got  no  answer 
except  a  laugh.  "  Do  you  wish  to  know  what  is  more 
beautiful  than  a  summer's  day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  the  answer  to  that !  "  cried  Marietta. 
"  You  used  to  catch  me  in  that  way  when  I  was  a  small 
girl." 

"  Well,  my  little  lady,  what  is  the  answer  ?  I  have 
said  nothing." 

"What  is  more  beautiful  than  a  summer's  day? 
Why,  two  summer's  days,  of  course  I  I  was  always 
dreadfully  disappointed  when  you  gave  me  that  answer, 
for  I  expected  something  wonderful." 

Nella  shook  her  head  as  she  unfolded  the  fine  linen 
things,  and  uttered  a  sort  of  little  clucking  sound, 
meant  to  show  her  disapproval  of  such  childish  jests. 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut  I  We  are  grown  up  now  I  Are  we 
children?  No,  we  are  a  young  lady,  beautiful  and 


A   MAID  OF  VENICE  69 


serious!  Tut,  tut,  tut!  That  you  should  remember 
the  nonsense  I  used  to  talk  to  make  you  stop  crying 
for  your  mother,  blessed  soul !  And  I  myself  was  so 
full  of  tears  that  a  drop  of  water  would  have  drowned 
me  !  But  all  passes,  praise  be  to  God  I " 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Marietta,  but  so  low  that  the 
woman  did  not  hear. 

"  I  will  ask  you  a  riddle,"  continued  Nella  presently. 

44  Oh  no  ! "  laughed  Marietta.  "  I  could  no  more 
guess  a  riddle  to-day  than  I  could  give  a  dissertation 
on  theology.  Riddles  are  for  rainy  days  in  winter, 
when  we  sit  by  the  fire  in  the  evening  wishing  it  were 
morning  again.  I  know  the  great  riddle  at  last  — 
I  have  found  it  out.  It  is  the  most  beautiful  thing* 
in  the  world." 

"Then  it  is  true,"  observed  Nella,  looking  at  her 
with  satisfaction. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  the  young  girl  carelessly. 

"That  you  are  to  be  married." 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  Marietta.  "Some  day,  but 
there  is  time  yet  —  perhaps  a  very  long  time." 

"  As  long  as  it  will  take  to  make  a  wedding  gown 
embroidered  with  gold  and  pearls.  Not  a  day  longer 
than  that."  Nella  looked  very  wise  and  watched  her 
mistress's  face. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  master  has  ordered  just  such  a  gown.     That 

,is  what  I  mean.     Do  you  think  I  would  talk  of  such 

a  beautiful  thing,  just  to  make  you  unhappy,  if  you 

were  not  to  have  one  ?     But  you  will  not  forget  poor 


70  MARIETTA 

Nella,  my  little  lady  ?  You  will  take  me  with  you  to 
Venice  ?  " 

"  Then  you  think  I  am  to  marry  some  one  from  the 
city  ?  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  The  master  knows.  That  is  enough.  But  it  must 
be  the  Doge's  son,  or  at  least  the  son  of  the  Admiral 
of  Venice.  It  will  take  two  months  to  embroider  the 
gown.  That  means  that  you  are  to  be  married  in 
August,  of  course." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "   asked  Marietta  indifferently. 

"  I  know  it."  And  Nella  gave  a  discontented  little 
snort,  for  she  did  not  like  to  have  her  conclusions  ques- 
tioned. "  Am  I  half-witted  ?  Am  I  in  my  dotage  ? 
Am  I  an  imbecile  ?  The  gown  is  ordered,  and  that 
is  the  truth.  Do  you  think  the  master  has  ordered 
a  wedding  gown  embroidered  with  gold  and  pearls  for 
himself?" 

Marietta  tossed  her  hair  back  and  shook  it  down 
her  shoulders,  laughing  gaily  at  the  idea. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Nella  indignantly.  "  Now  you  are 
mocking  me  !  You  are  making  a  laughing-stock  of 
your  poor  Nella  !  It  is  too  bad  !  But  you  will  be 
sorry  that  you  laughed  at  me,  when  I  am  not  here  to 
bring  you  melons  and  cherries  and  tell  you  the  news 
in  the  morning  !  You  will  say  :  '  Poor  Nella  !  She 
was  not  such  an  ignorant  person  after  all ! '  That  is 
what  you  will  say.  I  tell  you  that  if  your  father 
orders  a  wedding  gown,  you  are  the  only  person  in 
the  house  who  can  wear  it,  and  he  would  not  order  it 
just  to  see  how  beautiful  you  would  be  as  a  bride  I 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  71 

He  is  a  serious  man,  the  master,  he  is  grave,  he  is 
wise  !  He  does  nothing  without  much  reflection,  and 
what  he  does  is  well  done.  He  says,  '  My  daughter 
is  to  be  married,  therefore  I  will  order  a  splendid  dress 
for  her.'  That  is  what  he  says,  and  he  orders  it." 

"  That  has  an  air  of  reason,"  said  Marietta  gravely. 
"  I  did  not  mean  to  laugh  at  you." 

"  Oh,  very  well !  If  you  thought  your  father  un- 
reasonable, what  should  I  say  ?  He  does  not  say  one 
thing  and  do  another,  your  father.  And  I  will  tell 
you  something.  They  will  make  the  gown  even  hand- 
somer than  he  ordered  it,  because  he  is  very  rich, 
and  he  will  grumble  and  scold,  but  in  the  end  he  will 
pay,  for  the  honour  of  the  house.  Then  you  will  wear 
the  gown,  and  all  Venice  will  see  you  in  it  on  your 
wedding  day." 

"  That  will  be  a  great  thing  for  the  Venetians,"  ob- 
served the  young  girl,  trying  not  to  smile. 

"  They  will  see  that  there  are  rich  men  in  Mu- 
rano,  too.  It  will  be  a  lesson  for  their  intolerable 
vanity." 

"  Are  the  Venetians  so  very  vain  ?  " 

"  Well !  Was  not  my  husband  a  Venetian,  blessed 
soul?  It  seems  to  me  that  I  should  know.  Have  I 
forgotten  how  he  would  fasten  a  cock's  feather  in  his 
cap,  almost  like  a  gentleman,  and  hang  his  cloak  over 
one  shoulder,  and  pull  up  his  hose  till  they  almost 
cracked,  so  as  to  show  off  his  leg  ?  Ah,  he  had  hand- 
some legs,  my  poor  Vito,  and  he  never  would  use  any- 
thing but  pure  beeswax  to  stiffen  his  mustaches.  No, 


T2  MAEIETTA 

he  never  would  use  tallow.     He  was  almost  like  a 

gentleman  ! " 

Nella's  little  brown  eyes  were  moist  as  she  recalled 
her  husband's  small  vanities  ;  his  dislike  of  tallow  as  a 
cosmetic  seemed  to  affect  her  particularly. 

"  That  is  why  I  say  that  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  the 
pride  of  those  Venetians  to  see  your  marriage,"  she 
resumed,  after  drying  her  eyes  with  the  back  of  her 
hand.  "  And  the  people  of  Murano  will  be  there,  and 
all  the  glass-blowers  in  their  guild,  since  the  master  is 
the  head  of  it.  I  suppose  Zorzi  will  manage  to  be 
there,  too." 

Nella  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  tone  of  disapproval. 

"  Why  should  Zorzi  not  be  at  my  wedding  ?  "  asked 
Marietta  carelessly. 

"  Why  should  he  ?  "  asked  the  serving-woman  with 
unusual  bluntness.  "  But  I  daresay  the  master  will 
find  something  for  him  to  do.  He  is  clever  enough  at 
doing  anything." 

"  Yes  —  he  is  clever,"  assented  the  young  girl. 
"  Why  do  you  not  like  him  ?  Give  me  some  more 
water  —  you  are  always  afraid  that  I  shall  use  too 
much  !  " 

"  I  have  a  conscience,"  grumbled  Nella.  "  The  water 
is  brought  from  far,  it  is  paid  for,  it  costs  money,  we 
must  not  use  too  much  of  it.  Every  day  the  boats 
come  with  it,  and  the  row  of  earthen  jars  in  the  court 
is  filled,  and  your  father  pays  —  he  always  pays,  and 
pays,  and  pays,  till  I  wonder  where  the  money  all 
comes  from.  They  say  he  makes  gold,  over  there  in 
the  furnace." 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  73 

'  "  He  makes  glass,"  answered  Marietta.  "  And  if  lie 
orders  gowns  for  me  with  pearls  and  gold,  he  will  not 
grudge  me  a  jug  of  water.  Why  do  you  dislike 
Zorzi  ?  " 

"  He  is  as  proud  as  a  marble  lion,  and  as  obstinate  as 
a  Lombardy  mule,"  explained  Nella,  with  fine  imagery. 
"  If  that  is  not  enough  to  make  one  dislike  a  young 
man,  you  shall  tell  me  so  I  But  one  of  those  days  he 
will  fall.  There  is  trouble  for  the  proud." 

"How  does  his  great  pride  show  itself?"  asked 
Marietta.  "  I  have  not  noticed  it." 

"  That  would  indeed  be  the  end  of  everything,  if  he 
showed  his  pride  to  you  I  "  Nella  was  much  displeased 
by  the  mere  suggestion.  "  But  with  us  it  is  different. 
He  never  speaks  to  the  other  workmen." 

"  They  never  speak  to  him." 

uAnd  quite  right,  too,  since  he  holds  his  head  so 
high,  with  no  reason  at  all !  But  it  will  not  last  for 
ever  !  I  wonder  what  the  master  would  think,  for 
instance,  if  he  knew  that  Zorzi  takes  the  skiff  in  the 
evening,  and  rows  himself  over  to  Venice,  all  alone,  and 
comes  back  long  after  midnight,  and  sleeps  in  the  glass- 
house across  the  way  because  he  cannot  get  into  the 
house.  Zorzi  !  Zorzi  !  The  master  cannot  move 
without  Zorzi  !  And  where  is  Zorzi  at  night  ?  At 
home  and  in  bed,  like  a  decent  young  man  ?  No. 
Zorzi  is  away  in  Venice,  heaven  knows  where,  doing 
heaven  knows  what !  Do  you  wonder  that  he  is  so 
pale  and  tired  in  the  morning  ?  It  seems  to  me  quite 
natural.  Eh  ?  What  do  you  think,  my  pretty  lady  ?  " 


74  MARIETTA 

Marietta  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It  was  only  a 
servant's  spiteful  gossip,  but  it  hurt  her. 

"Are  you  sure  that  he  goes  to  Venice  alone  at 
night  ? "  she  asked,  after  a  little  pause. 

"  Am  I  sure  that  I  live,  that  I  belong  to  you,  and 
that  my  name  is  Nella  ?  Is  not  the  boat  moored  under 
my  window  ?  Did  I  not  hear  the  chain  rattling  softly 
last  night  ?  I  got  up  and  looked  out,  and  I  saw  Zorzi, 
as  I  see  you,  taking  the  padlock  off.  I  am  not  blind  — 
praise  be  to  heaven,  I  see.  He  turned  the  boat  to  the 
left,  so  he  must  have  been  going  to  Venice,  and  it  was 
at  least  an  hour  after  the  midnight  bells  when  I  heard 
the  chain  again,  and  I  looked  out,  and  there  he  was. 
But  he  did  not  come  into  the  house.  And  this  morn- 
ing I  saw  him  coming  out  of  the  glass-house,  just  as 
the  men  went  in.  He  was  as  pale  as  a  boiled  chicken." 

Marietta  had  seen  him,  too,  and  the  coincidence  gave 
colour  to  the  rest  of  the  woman's  tale,  as  would  have 
happened  if  the  whole  story  had  been  an  invention 
instead  of  being  quite  true.  Nella  was  combing  the 
girl's  thick  hair,  an  operation  peculiarly  conducive  to 
a  maid's  chattering,  for  she  has  the  certainty  that  her 
mistress  cannot  get  away,  and  must  therefore  listen 
patiently. 

A  shadow  had  fallen  on  the  brightness  of  Marietta's 
morning.  She  was  paler,  too,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"  Of  course  he  was  tired,"  continued  Nella.  "  Did 
you  suppose  that  he  would  come  back  with  pink  cheeks 
and  bright  eyes,  like  a  baby  from  baptism,  after  being 
out  half  the  night  ?  " 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  75 

*  "  He  is  always  pale,"  said  Marietta. 

"  Because  he  goes  to  Venice  every  night,"  retorted 
Nella  viciously.  "  That  is  the  good  reason  !  Oh,  I  am 
sure  of  it  !  And  besides,  I  shall  watch  him,  now  that 
I  know.  I  shall  see  him  whenever  he  takes  the  boat." 

"It  is  none  of  your  business  where  he  goes," 
answered  Marietta.  "It  does  not  concern  any  one  but 
himself." 

"  Oh,  indeed  1 "  sneered  Nella.  "  Then  the  honour 
of  the  house  does  not  matter  1  It  is  no  concern  of 
ours  1  And  your  father  need  never  know  that  his 
trusty  servant,  his  clever  assistant,  his  faithful  con- 
fidant, who  shares  all  his  secrets,  is  a  good-for-nothing 
fellow  who  spends  his  nights  in  gambling,  or  drinking, 
or  perhaps  in  making  love  to  some  Venetian  girl  as 
honourable  and  well  behaved  as  himself  !  " 

Marietta  had  grown  steadily  more  angry  while  Nella 
was  talking.  She  had  her  father's  temper,  though  she 
could  control  it  better  than  he. 

"  I  will  find  out  whether  this  story  is  true,"  she  said 
coldly.  "If  it  is  not,  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you. 
You  shall  not  serve  me  any  longer,  unless  you  can  be 
more  careful  in  what  you  say." 

Nella's  jaw  dropped  and  her  hands  stood  still  and 
trembled,  the  one  holding  the  comb  upraised,  the  other 
gathering  a  quantity  of  her  mistress's  hair.  Marietta 
had  never  spoken  to  her  like  this  in  her  life. 

"Send  me  away?"  faltered  the  woman  in  utter 
amazement.  "  Send  me  away  I "  she  repeated,  still 
quite  dazed.  "  But  it  is  impossible  —  "  her  voice  began 


76  MARIETTA 

to  break,  as  if  some  one  were  shaking  her  violently  oy 
the  shoulders.  "  Oh  no,  no  I  You  w-ill  n-ot  —  no-o-o I " 

The  sound  grew  more  piercing  as  she  went  on,  and 
the  words  were  soon  lost,  as  she  broke  into  a  violent 
fit  of  hysterical  crying. 

Marietta's  anger  subsided  as  her  pity  for  the  poor 
creature  increased.  She  had  made  a  great  effort  to 
speak  quietly  and  not  to  say  more  than  she  meant,  and 
she  had  certainly  not  expected  to  produce  such  a 
tremendous  commotion.  Nella  tore  her  hair,  drew  her 
nails  down  her  cheeks,  as  if  she  would  tear  them  with 
scratches,  rocked  herself  forwards  and  backwards  and 
from  side  to  side,  the  tears  poured  down  her  brown 
cheeks,  she  screamed  and  blubbered  and  whimpered 
in  quick  alternation,  and  in  a  few  moments  tumbled 
into  the  corner  of  a  big  chair,  a  sobbing  and  convulsed 
little  heap  of  womanhood. 

Marietta  tried  to  quiet  her,  and  was  so  sorry  for  her 
that  she  could  almost  have  cried  too,  until  she  remem- 
bered the  detestable  things  which  Nella  had  said  about 
Zorzi,  and  which  the  woman's  screams  had  driven  out 
of  her  memory  for  an  instant.  Then  she  longed  to 
beat  her  for  saying  them,  and  still  Nella  alternately 
moaned  and  howled,  and  twisted  herself  in  the  corner 
of  the  big  chair.  Marietta  wondered  whether  her  ser- 
vant were  going  mad,  and  whether  this  might  not  be 
a  judgment  of  heaven  for  telling  such  atrocious  lies 
about  poor  Zorzi.  In  that  case  it  was  of  course  de- 
served, thought  she,  watching  Nella's  contortions  ;  but 
it  was  very  sudden. 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  77 

She  made  up  her  mind  to  call  the  other  women,  and 
turned  to  go  to  the  door.  As  she  did  so  her  skirt 
caught  a  comb  that  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  table  and 
swept  it  off,  so  that  it  fell  upon  the  pavement  with  a 
dry  rap.  Instantly  Nella  sat  up  straight  and  rubbed 
her  eyes,  looking  about  for  the  cause  of  the  sound. 
When  she  saw  the  comb,  the  serving- woman's  instinct 
returned,  and  with  it  her  normal  condition  of  mind. 
She  picked  up  the  comb  with  a  quick  movement,  shook 
her  head  and  began  combing  Marietta's  hair  again 
before  the  girl  could  sit  down. 

Peace  was  restored,  for  she  did  not  speak  again,  as 
she  helped  her  mistress  to  finish  dressing  ;  but  though 
Marietta  tried  to  look  kindly  at  her  once  or  twice, 
Nella  quite  refused  to  see  it,  and  did  her  duty  without 
ever  raising  her  eyes. 

It  was  soon  finished,  for  the  pleasure  the  young  girl 
had  taken  in  making  much  of  the  first  details  of  the 
day  that  was  to  be  so  happy  was  all  gone.  She  did  not 
believe  her  woman,  but  there  was  a  cloud  over  every- 
thing and  she  was  in  haste  to  get  an  answer  to  the 
question  which  it  would  not  be  easy  to  ask.  She  must 
know  if  Zorzi  had  been  to  Venice  during  the  night, 
for  until  she  knew  that,  all  hope  of  peace  was  at  an 
end.  Nella  had  meant  no  harm,  but  she  had  played  the 
fatal  little  part  in  which  destiny  loves  to  go  masking 
through  life's  endless  play. 


CHAPTER  V 

ZOEZI  had  slept  but  little-  after  he  had  at  last  lain 
down  upon  the  long  bench  in  the  laboratory,  for  the 
scene  in  which  he  had  been  the  chief  actor  that  night 
had  made  a  profound  impression  upon  him.  There 
are  some  men  who  would  not  make  good  soldiers  but 
who  can  face  sudden  and  desperate  danger  with  a  calm- 
ness which  few  soldiers  really  possess,  and  which  is 
generally  accompanied  by  some  marked  superiority  of 
mind  ;  but  such  exceptional  natures  feel  the  reaction 
that  follows  the  perilous  moment  far  more  than  the 
average  fighting  man.  They  are  those  who  sometimes 
stem  the  rush  of  panic  and  turn  back  whole  armies 
from  ruin  to  victorious  battle  ;  they  are  those  who 
spring  forward  from  the  crowd  to  save  life  when  some 
terrible  accident  has  happened,  as  if  they  were  risking 
nothing,  and  who  generally  succeed  in  what  they 
attempt ;  but  they  are  not  men  who  learn  to  fight 
every  day  as  carelessly  and  naturally  as  they  eat,  drink 
or  sleep.  Their  chance  of  action  may  come  but  once 
or  twice  in  a  lifetime  ;  yet  when  it  comes  it  finds  them 
far  more  ready  and  cool  than  the  average  good  soldier 
could  ever  be.  Like  strength  in  some  men,  their  cour- 
age seems  to  depend  on  quality  and  very  little  on 
quantity,  training  or  experience. 

78 


MARIETTA,    A  MAID  OF   VENICE  79 

Zorzi  knew  very  well  that  although  the  young 
gentlemen  who  were  playing  at  conspiracy  in  Jacopo'a 
house  did  not  constitute  a  serious  danger  to  the  Repub- 
lic, they  were  fully  aware  of  their  own  peril,  and  would 
not  have  hesitated  to  take  his  life  if  it  had  not  occurred 
to  them  that  he  might  be  useful.  His  intrepid  manner 
had  saved  him,  but  now  that  the  night  was  over  he  felt 
such  a  weariness  and  lassitude  as  he  had  never  known 
before. 

The  adventure  had  its  amusing  side,  of  course.  To 
Zorzi,  who  knew  the  people  well,  it  was  very  laugh- 
able to  think  that  a  score  of  dissolute  young  patricians 
should  first  fancy  themselves  able  to  raise  a  revolution 
against  the  most  firmly  established  government  in 
Europe,  and  should  then  squander  the  privacy  which 
they  had  bought  at  a  frightful  risk  in  mere  gambling 
and  dice-playing.  But  there  was  nothing  humorous 
about  the  oath  he  had  taken.  In  the  first  place,  it  had 
been  sworn  in  solemn  earnest,  and  was  therefore  bind- 
ing upon  him;  secondly,  if  he  broke  it,  his  life  would 
not  be  worth  a  day's  purchase.  He  was  brave  enough 
to  have  scorned  the  second  consideration,  but  he  was 
far  too  honourable  to  try  and  escape  the  first.  He  had 
made  the  promises  to  save  his  life,  it  was  true,  and 
under  great  pressure,  but  he  would  have  despised 
himself  as  a  coward  if  he  had  not  meant  to  keep 
them. 

And  he  had  solemnly  bound  himself  to  respect  "  the 
betrothed  brides  "  of  all  the  brethren  of  the  company. 
Marietta  was  not  betrothed  to  Jacopo  Contarini  yets, 


80  MARIETTA 

but  there  was  no  doubt  that  she  would  be  before  many 
days;  to  "respect"  undoubtedly  meant  that  he  must 
not  try  to  win  her  away  from  her  affianced  husband ; 
if  he  had  ever  dreamt  that  in  some  fair,  fantastically 
improbable  future,  Marietta  could  be  his  wife,  he  had 
parted  with  the  right  to  dream  the  like  again.  There- 
fore, when  he  had  stood  awhile  looking  up  at  her 
window  that  morning,  he  sighed  heavily  and  went 
away. 

He  had  never  had  any  hope  that  she  would  love  him, 
much  less  that  he  could  ever  marry  her,  yet  he  felt 
that  he  was  parting  with  the  only  thing  in  life  which 
he  held  higher  than  his  art,  and  that  the  parting  was 
final.  For  months,  perhaps  for  years,  he  had  never 
closed  his  eyes  to  sleep  without  calling  up  her  face 
and  repeating  her  name,  he  had  never  got  up  in  the 
morning  without  looking  forward  to  seeing  her  and 
hearing  her  voice  before  he  should  lie  down  again. 
A  man  more  like  others  would  have  said  to  himself 
that  no  promise  could  bind  him  to  anything  more  than 
the  performance  of  an  action,  or  the  abstention  from 
one,  and  that  the  right  of  dreaming  was  his  own 
for  ever.  But  Zorzi  judged  differently.  He  had  a 
sensitiveness  that  was  rather  manly  than  masculine; 
he  had  scruples  of  which  he  was  not  ashamed,  but 
which  most  men  would  laugh  at ;  he  had  delicacies  of 
conscience  in  his  most  private  thoughts  such  as  would 
have  been  more  natural  in  a  cloistered  nun,  living  in 
ignorance  of  the  world,  than  in  a  waif  who  had  faced  it 
at  its  worst,  and  almost  from  childhood.  Innocent  as 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  81 

his  dream  had  been,  he  resolved  to  part  with  it,  and 
never  to  dream  it  again.  He  was  glad  that  Marietta 
had  taken  back  the  rose  he  had  picked  up  yesterday ;  if 
she  had  not,  he  would  have  forced  himself  to  throw  it 
away,  and  that  would  have  hurt  him. 

So  he  began  his  day  in  a  melancholy  mood,  as  having 
buried  out  of  sight  for  ever  something  that  was  very 
dear  to  him.  In  time,  his  love  of  his  art  would  fill  the 
place  of  the  other  love,  but  on  this  first  day  he  went 
about  in  silence,  with  hungry  eyes  and  tightened  lips, 
like  a  man  who  is  starving  and  is  too  proud  to  ask  a 
charity. 

He  waited  for  Beroviero  at  the  door  of  his  house,  as 
he  did  every  morning,  to  attend  him  to  the  laboratory. 
The  old  man  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  Zorzi  bent 
his  head  a  little  to  explain  that  he  had  done  what  had 
been  required  of  him,  and  he  followed  his  master  across 
the  wooden  bridge.  When  they  were  alone  in  the 
laboratory,  he  told  as  much  of  his  story  as  "was 
necessary. 

He  had  found  the  lord  Jacopo  Contarini  at  his  house 
with  a  party  of  friends,  he  said,  and  he  added  at  once 
that  they  were  all  men.  Contarini  had  bidden  him 
speak  before  them  all,  but  he  had  whispered  his  mes- 
sage so  that  only  Contarini  should  hear  it.  After  a 
time  he  had  been  allowed  to  come  away.  No  —  Con- 
tarini had  given  no  direct  answer,  he  had  sent  no 
reply ;  he  had  only  said  aloud  to  his  friends  that  the 
message  he  received  was  expected.  That  was  all.  The 
friends  who  were  there?  Zorzi  answered  with  perfect 
G 


82  MARIETTA 

truth  that  he  did  not  remember  to  have  seen  any  of 
them  before. 

Beroviero  was  silent  for  a  while,  considering  the  story. 

"  He  would  have  thought  it  discourteous  to  leave  his 
friends,"  he  said  at  last,  "  or  to  whisper  an  answer  to 
a  messenger  in  their  presence.  He  said  that  he  had 
expected  the  message,  he  will  therefore  come." 

To  this  Zorzi  answered  nothing,  for  he  was  glad  not 
to  be  questioned  further  about  what  had  happened. 
Presently  Beroviero  settled  to  his  work  with  his  usual 
concentration.  For  many  months  he  had  been  experi- 
menting in  the  making  of  fine  red  glass  of  a  certain 
tone,  of  which  he  had  brought  home  a  small  fragment 
from  one  of  his  journeys.  Hitherto  he  had  failed  in 
every  attempt.  He  had  tried  one  mixture  after 
another,  and  had  produced  a  score  of  different  speci- 
mens, but  not  one  of  them  had  that  marvellous  light 
in  it,  like  sunshine  striking  through  bright  blood, 
which  he  was  striving  to  obtain.  It  was  nearly  three 
weeks  since  his  small  furnace  had  been  allowed  to  go 
out,  and  by  this  time  he  alone  knew  what  the  glowing 
pots  contained,  for  he  wrote  down  very  carefully  what 
he  did  and  in  characters  which  he  believed  no  one 
could  understand  but  himself. 

As  usual  every  morning,  he  proceeded  to  make  trial 
of  the  materials  fused  in  the  night.  The  furnace, 
though  not  large,  held  three  crucibles,  before  each  of 
which  was  the  opening,  still  called  by  the  Italian  name 
'bocca,'  through  which  the  materials  are  put  into  the 
pots  to  melt  into  glass,  and  by  which  the  melted  glass 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  83 

js  taken  out  on  the  end  of  the  blow-pipe,  or  in  a  cop- 
per ladle,  when  it  is  to  be  tested  by  casting  it.  The 
furnace  was  arched  from  end  to  end,  and  about  the 
height  of  a  tall  man ;  the  working  end  was  like  a 
round  oven  with  three  glowing  openings ;  the  straight 
part,  some  twenty  feet  long,  contained  the  annealing 
oven  through  which  the  finished  pieces  were  made  to 
move  slowly,  on  iron  lier-pans,  during  many  hours,  till 
the  glass  had  passed  from  extreme  heat  almost  to  the 
temperature  of  the  air.  The  most  delicate  vessels  ever 
produced  in  Murano  have  all  been  made  in  single 
furnaces,  the  materials  being  melted,  converted  into 
glass  and  finally  annealed,  by  one  fire.  At  least  one 
old  furnace  is  standing  and  still  in  use,  which  has 
existed  for  centuries,  and  those  made  nowadays  are 
substantially  like  it  in  every  important  respect. 

Zorzi  stood  holding  a  long-handled  copper  ladle, 
ready  to  take  out  a  specimen  of  the  glass  containing 
the  ingredients  most  lately  added.  A  few  steps  from 
the  furnace  a  thick  and  smooth  plate  of  iron  was  placed 
on  a  heavy  wooden  table,  and  upon  this  the  liquid  glass 
was  to  be  poured  out  to  cool. 

"  It  must  be  time,"  said  Beroviero,  **  unless  the  boys 
forgot  to  turn  the  sand-glass  at  one  of  the  watches. 
The  hour  is  all  but  run  out,  and  it  must  be  the  twelfth 
since  I  put  in  the  materials." 

"  I  turned  it  myself,  an  hour  after  midnight,"  said 
Zorzi,  "  and  also  the  next  time,  when  it  was  dawn.  It 
runs  three  hours.  Judging  by  the  time  of  sunrise  it  i* 
running  right." 


84  MARIETTA 

*  Then  make  the  trial." 

Beroviero  stood  opposite  Zorzi,  his  face  pale  with 
heat  and  excitement,  his  fiery  eyes  reflecting  the  fierce 
light  from  the  'bocca'  as  he  bent  down  to  watch  the 
copper  ladle  go  in.  Zorzi  had  wrapped  a  cloth  round 
his  right  hand,  against  the  heat,  and  he  thrust  the  great 
spoon  through  the  round  orifice.  Though  it  was  the 
hundredth  time  of  testing,  the  old  man  watched  his 
movements  with  intensest  interest. 

"  Quickly,  quickly  1 "  he  cried,  quite  unconscious 
that  he  was  speaking. 

There  was  no  need  of  hurrying  Zorzi.  In  two  steps 
he  had  reached  the  table,  and  the  white  hot  stuff  spread 
out  over  the  iron  plate,  instantly  turning  to  a  greenish 
yellow,  then  to  a  pale  rose-colour,  then  to  a  deep  and 
glowing  red,  as  it  felt  the  cool  metal.  The  two  men 
stood  watching  it  closely,  for  it  was  thin  and  would 
soon  cool.  Zorzi  was  too  wise  to  say  anything.  Bero- 
viero's  look  of  interest  gradually  turned  into  an  expres 
sion  of  disappointment. 

"  Another  failure,"  he  said,  with  a  resignation  which 
no  one  would  have  expected  in  such  a  man. 

His  practised  eyes  had  guessed  the  exact  hue  of  the 
glass,  while  it  still  lay  on  the  iron,  half  cooled  and  far 
too  hot  to  touch.  Zorzi  took  a  short  rod  and  pushed 
the  round  sheet  till  a  part  of  it  was  over  the  edge  oi 
the  table. 

"  It  is  the  best  we  have  had  yet,"  he  observed,  look- 
ing at  it. 

"Is  it?"  asked  Beroviero  with  little  interest,  and 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  86 

without  giving  the  glass  another  glance.  "It  is  not 
what  I  am  trying  to  get.  It  is  the  colour  of  wine,  not 
of  blood.  Make  something,  Zorzi,  while  I  write  down 
the  result  of  the  experiment." 

He  took  his  pen  and  the  sheet  of  rough  paper  on 
which  he  had  already  noted  the  proportions  of  the 
materials,  and  he  began  to  write,  sitting  at  the  large 
table  before  the  open  window.  Zorzi  took  the  long 
iron  blow-pipe,  cleaned  it  with  a  cloth  and  pushed  the 
end  through  the  orifice  from  which  he  had  taken  the 
specimen.  He  drew  it  back  with  a  little  lump  of 
melted  glass  sticking  to  it. 

Holding  the  blow-pipe  to  his  lips,  he  blew  a  little, 
and  the  lump  swelled,  and  he  swung  the  pipe  sharply 
in  a  circle,  so  that  the  glass  lengthened  to  the  shape  of 
a  pear,  and  he  blew  again  and  it  grew.  At  the  '  bocca ' 
of  the  furnace  he  heated  it,  for  it  was  cooling  quickly ; 
and  he  had  his  iron  pontil  ready,  as  there  was  no  one 
to  help  him,  and  he  easily  performed  the  feat  of  taking 
a  little  hot  glass  on  it  from  the  pot  and  attaching  it  to 
the  further  end  of  the  fast-cooling  pear.  If  Beroviero 
had  been  watching  him  he  would  have  been  astonished 
at  the  skill  with  which  the  young  man  accomplished 
what  it  requires  two  persons  to  do  ;  but  Zorzi  had 
tricks  of  his  own,  and  the  pontil  supported  itself  on  a 
board  while  he  cracked  the  pear  from  the  blow-pipe 
with  a  wet  iron,  as  well  as  if  a  boy  had  held  it  in  place 
for  him  ;  and  then  heating  and  reheating  the  piece,  he 
fashioned  it  and  cut  it  with  tongs  and  shears,  rolling 
the  pontil  on  the  flat  arms  of  his  stool  with  his  left 


86  MARIETTA 

hand,  and  modelling  the  glass  with  his  right,  till  at 
last  he  let  it  cool  to  its  natural  colour,  holding  it 
straight  downward,  and  then  swinging  it  slowly,  so 
that  it  should  fan  itself  in  the  air.  It  was  a  graceful 
calix  now,  of  a  deep  wine  red,  clear  and  transparent  as 
claret. 

Zorzi  turned  to  the  window  to  show  it  to  his  master, 
not  for  the  sake  of  the  workmanship  but  of  the  colour. 
The  old  man's  head  was  bent  over  his  writing  ;  Mari- 
etta was  standing  outside,  and  her  eyes  met  Zorzi's. 
He  did  not  blush  as  he  had  blushed  yesterday,  when  he 
looked  up  from  the  fire  and  saw  her  ;  he  merely  in- 
clined his  head  respectfully,  to  acknowledge  her  pres- 
ence, and  then  he  stood  by  the  table  waiting  for  the 
master  to  notice  him,  and  not  bestowing  another  glance 
on  the  young  girl. 

Beroviero  turned  to  him  at  last.  He  was  so  used 
to  Marietta's  presence  that  he  paid  no  attention  to 
her. 

"  What  is  that  thing  ?  "  he  asked  contemptuously. 

"A  specimen  of  the  glass  we  tried,"  answered  the 
young  man.  "I  have  blown  it  thin  to  show  the 
colour." 

"A  man  who  can  have  such  execrable  taste  as  to 
make  a  drinking-cup  of  coloured  glass  does  not  deserve 
to  know  as  much  as  you  do." 

"But  it  is  very  pretty,"  said  Marietta  through  the 
window,  and  bending  forward  she  rested  her  white 
hands  on  the  table,  among  the  little  heaps  of  chemicals. 
"Anneal  it,  and  give  it  to  me,"  she  added. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  87 

"  Keep  such  a  thing  in  my  house  ?  "  asked  Beroviero 
scornfully.  "  Break  up  that  rubbish  I "  he  added 
roughly,  speaking  to  Zorzi. 

Without  a  word  Zorzi  smashed  the  calix  off  the  iron 
into  an  old  earthen  jar  already  half  full  of  broken 
glass.  Then  he  put  the  pontil  in  its  place  and  went  to 
tend  the  fire.  Marietta  left  the  window  and  entered 
the  room. 

"Am  I  disturbing  you?"  she  asked  gently,  as  she 
stood  by  her  father. 

"  No.  I  have  finished  writing."  He  laid  down  his 
pen. 

"Another  failure?" 

"Yes." 

"  Perhaps  I  do  not  bring  you  good  luck  with  your 
experiments,"  suggested  the  girl,  leaning  down  and 
looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the  crabbed  writing,  so 
that  her  cheek  almost  touched  his.  "  Is  that  why  you 
wish  to  send  me  away  ?  " 

Beroviero  turned  in  his  chair,  raised  his  heavy  brows 
and  looked  up  into  her  face,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Nella  has  just  told  me  that  you  have  ordered  my 
wedding  gown,"  continued  Marietta. 

"  We  are  not  alone,"  said  her  father  in  a  low  voice. 

"Zorzi  probably  knows  what  is  the  gossip  of  the 
house,  and  what  I  have  been  the  last  to  hear,"  answered 
the  young  girl.  "  Besides,  you  trust  him  with  all  your 
secrets." 

"  Yes,  I  trust  him,"  assented  Beroviero.  "  But  these 
are  private  matters." 


88  MARIETTA 

"  So  private,  that  my  serving- woman  knows  more  of 
them  than  I  do." 

"You  encourage  her  to  talk." 

Marietta  laughed,  for  she  was  determined  to  be  good- 
humoured,  in  spite  of  what  she  said. 

"  If  I  did,  that  would  not  teach  her  things  which  I 
do  not  know  myself  I  Is  it  true  that  you  have  ordered 
the  gown  to  be  embroidered  with  pearls  ?  " 

"  You  like  pearls,  do  you  not  ? "  asked  Beroviero 
with  a  little  anxiety. 

"  You  see  I  "  cried  Marietta  triumphantly.  "  Nella 
knows  all  about  it." 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you  this  morning,"  said  het 
father  in  a  tone  of  annoyance.  "  By  my  faith,  one  cai* 
keep  nothing  secret  1  One  cannot  even  give  you  a 
surprise." 

M  Nella  knows  everything,"  returned  the  girl,  sitting 
on  the  corner  of  the  table  and  looking  from  her  father 
to  Zorzi.  *  That  must  be  why  you  chose  her  for  my 
serving- woman  when  I  was  a  little  girl.  She  knows  all 
that  happens  in  the  house  by  day  and  night,  so  that  I 
sometimes  think  she  never  sleeps." 

Zorzi  looked  furtively  towards  the  table,  for  he  could 
not  help  hearing  all  that  was  said. 

"  For  instance,"  continued  Marietta,  watching  him, 
"  she  knows  that  last  night  some  one  unlocked  the  chain 
that  moors  the  skiff,  and  rowed  away  towards  Venice." 

To  her  surprise  Zorzi  showed  no  embarrassment.  He 
had  made  up  the  fire  and  now  sat  down  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, on  one  of  the  flat  arms  of  the  glass-blower's  work- 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  89 

ing-stool.  His  face  was  pale  and  quiet,  and  his  eyes 
did  not  avoid  hers. 

"  If  I  caught  any  one  using  my  boat  without  my  leave, 
I  would  make  him  pay  dear,"  said  Beroviero,  but  with- 
out anger,  as  if  he  were  stating  a  general  truth. 

"  Whoever  it  was  who  took  the  boat  brought  it  back 
an  hour  after  midnight,  locked  the  padlock  again  and 
went  away,"  said  Marietta. 

"  Tell  Nella  that  I  am  much  indebted  to  her  for  her 
watchfulness.  She  is  as  good  as  a  house-dog.  Tell 
her  to  come  and  wake  me  if  she  sees  any  one  taking  the 
boat  again." 

"  She  says  she  knows  who  took  it  last  night,"  ob- 
served Marietta,  who  was  puzzled  by  the  attitude  of  the 
two  men  ;  she  had  now  decided  that  it  had  not  been 
Zorzi  who  had  used  the  boat,  but  on  the  other  hand  the 
story  did  not  rouse  her  father's  anger  as  she  had 
expected. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  the  man's  name  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Who  was  it  ?  " 

"  She  said  it  was  Zorzi."  Marietta  laughed  incredu- 
lously as  she  spoke,  and  Zorzi  smiled  quietly. 

Beroviero  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  looked  out  of 
the  window. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Tell  your  grace- 
less gossip  of  a  serving-woman  that  I  will  answer  for 
Zorzi,  and  that  the  next  time  she  hears  any  one  taking 
the  boat  at  night  she  had  better  come  and  call  me,  and 
open  her  eyes  a  little  wider.  Tell  her  also  that  I  enter- 


90  MARIETTA 

tain  proper  persons  to  take  care  of  my  property  without 
any  help  from  her.  Tell  her  furthermore  that  she  talks 
too  much.  You  should  not  listen  to  a  servant's  miser- 
able chatter." 

"I  will  tell  her,"  replied  Marietta  meekly.  "Did 
you  say  that  the  gown  was  to  be  embroidered  with 
pearls  and  silver,  father,  or  with  pearls  and  gold  ?  " 

"I  believe  I  said  gold,"  answered  the  old  man 
discontentedly. 

"And  when  will  it  be  ready?  In  about  two 
months  ?  " 

"  I  daresay." 

"  So  you  mean  to  marry  me  in  two  months,"  con- 
cluded Marietta.  "  That  is  not  a  long  time." 

"  Should  you  prefer  two  years  ?  "  inquired  Beroviero 
with  increasing  annoyance.  Marietta  slipped  from  the 
table  to  her  feet. 

"It  depends  on  the  bridegroom,"  she  answered, 
"  Perhaps  I  may  prefer  to  wait  a  lifetime!  "  She  moved 
towards  the  door. 

"  Oh,  you  shall  be  satisfied  with  the  bridegroom  I  I 
promise  you  that."  The  old  man  looked  after  her.  At 
the  door  she  turned  her  head,  smiling. 

"  I  may  be  hard  to  please,"  she  said  quietly,  and  she 
went  out  into  the  garden. 

When  she  was  gone  Beroviero  shut  the  window  care- 
fully, and  though  the  round  bull's-eye  panes  let  in  the 
light  plentifully,  they  effectually  prevented  any  one 
from  seeing  into  the  room.  The  door  was  already 
closed. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  91 

"You  should  have  been  more  careful,"  he  said  to 
Zorzi  in  a  tone  of  reproach.  "  You  should  not  have  let 
any  one  see  you,  when  you  took  the  boat." 

"  If  the  woman  spent  half  the  night  looking  out  of 
her  window,  sir,  I  do  not  understand  how  I  could  have 
taken  the  boat  without  being  seen  by  her." 

"Well,  well,  there  is  no  harm  done,  and  you  could 
not  help  it,  I  daresay.  I  have  something  else  to  say. 
You  saw  the  lord  Jacopo  last  night ;  what  do  you 
think  of  him  ?  He  is  a  fine-looking  young  man. 
Should  not  any  girl  be  glad  to  get  such  a  handsome 
husband  ?  What  do  you  think  ?  And  his  name,  too  I 
one  of  the  best  in  the  Great  Council.  They  say  he 
has  a  few  debts,  but  his  father  is  very  rich,  and  has 
promised  me  that  he  will  pay  everything  if  only  his 
son  can  be  brought  to  marry  and  lead  a  graver  life. 
What  do  you  think?" 

"  He  is  a  very  handsome  young  man,"  said  Zorzi  loy- 
ally. "  What  should  I  think  ?  It  is  a  most  honourable 
marriage  for  your  house." 

UI  hear  no  great  harm  of  Jacopo,"  continued  Bero- 
viero  more  familiarly.  "  His  father  is  miserly.  We 
have  spent  much  time  in  the  preliminary  arrangements, 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  son,  and  the  old  inan  is 
very  grasping  I  He  would  take  all  my  fortune  for  the 
dowry  if  he  could.  But  he  has  to  do  with  a  glass- 
blower  ! " 

Beroviero  smiled  thoughtfully.  Zorzi  was  silent,  for 
he  was  suffering. 

"You   may   wonder  why  I  sent  that   message   last 


92  MARIETTA 

night,'*  began  the  master  again,  "since  matters  are 
already  so  far  settled  with  Jacopo's  father.  You  would 
suppose  that  nothing  more  remained  but  to  marry  the 
couple  in  the  presence  of  both  families,  should  you 
not?" 

"  I  know  little  of  such  affairs,  sir,"  answered  Zorzi. 

"  That  would  be  the  usual  way,"  continued  Beroviero. 
"  But  I  will  not  marry  Marietta  against  her  will.  I 
have  always  told  her  so.  She  shall  see  her  future  hus- 
band before  she  is  betrothed,  and  persuade  herself  with 
her  own  eyes  that  she  is  not  being  deceived  into  marry- 
ing a  hunchback." 

"But  supposing  that  after  all  the  lord  Jacopo  should 
not  be  to  her  taste,"  suggested  Zorzi,  "would  you 
break  off  the  match?" 

"  Break  off  the  match  ?  "  cried  Beroviero  indignantly. 
"  Never  !  Not  to  her  taste  ?  The  handsomest  man  in 
Venice,  with  a  great  name  and  a  fortune  to  come  ?  It 
would  not  be  my  fault  if  the  girl  went  mad  and  refused! 
I  would  make  her  like  him  if  she  dared  to  hesitate  a 
moment  1 " 

"  Even  against  her  will  ?  " 

"  She  has  no  will  in  the  matter,"  retorted  Beroviero 
angrily. 

"  But  you  have  always  told  her  that  you  would  not 
marry  her  against  her  will  —  " 

"  Do  not  anger  me,  Zorzi  I  Do  not  try  your  specious 
logic  with  me  !  Invent  no  absurd  arguments,  man  ! 
Against  her  will,  indeed  ?  How  should  she  know  any 
will  but  mine  in  the  matter?  I  shall  certainly  not 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  93 

marry  her  against  her  will !  She  shall  will  what  I 
please,  neither  more  nor  less." 

"  If  that  is  your  point  of  view,"  said  Zorzi,  "  there  is 
no  room  for  argument." 

"Of  course  not.  Any  reasonable  person  would 
laugh  at  the  idea  that  a  girl  in  her  senses  should  not  be 
glad  to  marry  Jacopo  Contarini,  especially  after  having 
seen  him.  If  she  were  not  glad,  she  would  not  be  in 
her  senses,  in  other  words  she  would  not  be  sane,  and 
should  be  treated  as  a  lunatic,  for  her  own  good. 
Would  you  let  a  lunatic  do  as  he  liked,  if  he  tried 
to  jump  out  of  the  window?  The  mere  thought  is 
absurd." 

"  Quite,"  said  Zorzi. 

Sad  as  he  was,  he  could  almost  have  laughed  at  the 
old  man's  inconsequent  speeches. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  so  heartily  agree  with  me,"  an- 
swered Beroviero  in  perfect  sincerity.  "  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  I  would  ask  your  opinion  about  my  daugh- 
ter's marriage.  You  would  not  expect  that.  But  I 
know  that  I  can  trust  you,  for  we  have  worked  together 
a  long  time,  and  I  am  used  to  hearing  what  you  have 
to  say." 

"  You  have  always  been  very  good  to  me,"  replied 
Zorzi  gratefully. 

"  You  have  always  been  faithful  to  me,"  said  the  old 
man,  laying  his  hand  gently  on  Zorzi's  shoulder.  "  I 
know  what  that  means  in  this  world." 

As  soon  as  there  was  no  question  of  opposing  his 
despotic  will,  his  kindly  nature  asserted  itself,  for  he 


94  MAKIETTA 

was  a  man  subject  to  quick  changes  of  humour,  but  in 
reality  affectionate. 

"  I  am  going  to  trust  you  much  more  than  hitherto'," 
he  continued.  "  My  sons  are  grown  men,  independent 
of  me,  but  willing  to  get  from  me  all  they  can.  If  they 
were  true  artists,  if  I  could  trust  their  taste,  they 
should  have  had  my  secrets  long  ago.  But  they  are 
mere  money-makers,  and  it  is  better  that  they  should 
enrich  themselves  with  the  tasteless  rubbish  they  make 
in  their  furnaces,  than  degrade  our  art  by  cheapening 
what  should  be  rare  and  costly.  Am  I  right  ?  " 

"  Indeed  you  are  1 "  Zorzi  now  spoke  in  a  tone  of 
real  conviction. 

"If  I  thought  you  were  really  capable  of  making 
coloured  drinking-cups  like  that  abominable  object  you 
made  this  morning,  with  the  idea  that  they  could  ever 
be  used,  you  should  not  stay  on  Venetian  soil  a  day," 
resumed  the  old  man  energetically.  "  You  would  be 
as  bad  as  my  sons,  or  worse.  Even  they  have  enough 
sense  to  know  that  half  the  beauty  of  a  cup,  when  it  is 
used,  lies  in  the  colour  of  the  wine  itself,  which  must 
be  seen  through  it.  But  I  forgive  you,  because  you 
were  only  anxious  to  blow  the  glass  thin,  in  order  to 
show  me  the  tint.  You  know  better.  That  is  why  I 
mean  to  trust  you  in  a  very  grave  matter." 

Zorzi  bent  his  head  respectfully,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  make  a  journey  before  my  daugh- 
ter's marriage  takes  place,"  continued  Beroviero.  "  I 
shall  entrust  to  you  the  manuscript  secrets  I  possess. 
They  are  in  a  sealed  package  so  that  you  cannot  read 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  96 

them,  but  they  will  be  in  your  care.  If  I  leave  them 
with  any  one  else,  my  sons  will  try  to  get  possession  of 
them  while  I  am  away.  During  my  last  journey  I 
carried  them  with  me,  but  I  am  growing  old,  life  is 
uncertain,  especially  when  a  man  is  travelling,  and  I 
would  rather  leave  the  packet  with  you.  It  will  be 
safer." 

"  It  shall  be  altogether  safe,"  said  Zorzi.  "  No  one 
shall  guess  that  I  have  it." 

"  No  one  must  know.  I  would  take  you  with  me  on 
this  journey,  but  I  wish  you  to  go  on  with  the  experi- 
ments I  have  been  making.  We  shall  save  time,  if  you 
try  some  of  the  mixtures  while  I  am  away.  When  it 
is  too  hot,  let  the  furnace  go  out." 

"  But  who  will  take  charge  of  your  daughter,  sir  ?  " 
asked  Zorzi.  "  You  cannot  leave  her  alone  in  the 
house." 

"  My  son  Giovanni  and  his  wife  will  live  in  my  house 
while  I  am  away.  I  have  thought  of  everything.  If 
you  choose,  you  may  bring  your  belongings  here,  and 
sleep  and  eat  in  the  glass-house." 

"I  should  prefer  it." 

"  So  should  I.  I  do  not  want  my  sons  to  pry  into 
what  we  are  doing.  You  can  hide  the  packet  here, 
where  they  will  not  think  of  looking  for  it.  When 
you  go  out,  lock  the  door.  When  you  are  in,  Giovanni 
will  not  come.  You  will  have  the  place  to  yourself, 
and  the  boys  who  feed  the  fire  at  night  will  not  dis- 
turb you.  Of  course  my  daughter  will  never  come 
here  while  I  am  away.  You  will  be  quite  alone." 


96  MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF   VENICE 

"  When  do  you  go  ?  "  asked  Zorzi. 

"  On  Monday  morning.  On  Sunday  I  shall  take 
Marietta  to  Saint  Mark's.  When  she  has  seen  her 
husband  the  betrothal  can  take  place  at  once." 

Zorzi  was  silent,  for  the  future  looked  black  enough. 
He  already  saw  himself  shut  up  in  the  glass-house  for 
two  long  months,  or  not  much  less,  as  effectually  sepa- 
rated from  Marietta  by  the  narrow  canal  as  if  an 
ocean  were  between  them.  She  would  never  cross  over 
and  spend  an  hour  in  the  little  garden  then,  and  she 
would  be  under  the  care  of  Giovanni  Beroviero,  who 
hated  him,  as  he  well  knew. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AEISTAECHI  rose  early,  though  it  had  been  broad 
dawn  when  he  had  entered  his  home.  He  lived  not 
far  from  the  house  of  the  Agnus  Dei,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  same  canal  but  beyond  the  Baker's  Bridge. 
His  house  was  small  and  unpretentious,  a  little  wooden 
building  in  two  stories,  with  a  small  door  opening  to 
the  water  and  another  at  the  back,  giving  access  to 
a  patch  of  dilapidated  and  overgrown  garden,  whence 
a  second  door  opened  upon  a  dismal  and  unsavoury 
alley.  One  faithful  man,  who  had  followed  him 
through  many  adventures,  rendered  him  such  ser- 
vices as  he  needed,  prepared  the  food  he  liked  and 
guarded  the  house  in  his  absence.  The  fellow  was 
far  too  much  in  awe  of  his  terrible  master  to  play 
the  spy  or  to  ask  inopportune  questions. 

The  Greek  put  on  the  rich  dress  of  a  merchant 
captain  of  his  own  people,  the  black  coat,  thickly 
embroidered  with  gold,  the  breeches  of  dark  blue 
cloth,  the  almost  transparent  linen  shirt,  open  at  the 
throat.  A  large  blue  cap  of  silk  and  cloth  was  set 
far  back  on  his  head,  showing  all  the  bony  forehead, 
and  his  coal-black  beard  and  shaggy  hair  had  been 
combed  as  smooth  as  their  shaggy  nature  would  allow. 
H  97 


98  MARIETTA 

He  wore  a  magnificent  belt  fully  two  hands  wide,  in 
which  were  stuck  three  knives  of  formidable  length 
and  breadth,  in  finely  chased  silver  sheaths.  His 
muscular  legs  were  encased  in  leathern  gaiters,  orna- 
mented with  gold  and  silver,  and  on  his  feet  he  wore 
broad  turned-up  slippers  from  Constantinople.  The 
dress  was  much  the  same  as  that  which  the  Turks  had 
found  there  a  few  years  earlier,  and  which  they  soon 
amalgamated  with  their  own.  It  set  off  the  captain's 
vast  breadth  of  shoulder  and  massive  limbs,  and  as 
he  stepped  into  his  hired  boat  the  idlers  at  the  water- 
stairs  gazed  upon  him  with  an  admiration  of  which 
he  was  well  aware,  for  besides  being  very  splendidly 
dressed  he  looked  as  if  he  could  have  swept  them  all 
into  the  canal  with  a  turn  of  his  hand. 

Without  saying  whither  he  was  bound  he  directed 
the  oarsman  through  the  narrow  channels  until  he 
reached  the  shallow  lagoon.  The  boatman  asked 
whither  he  should  go. 

"To  Murano,"  answered  the  Greek.  "And  keep 
over  by  Saint  Michael's,  for  the  tide  is  low." 

The  boatman  had  already  understood  that  his  pas- 
senger knew  Venice  almost  as  well  as  he.  The  boat 
shot  forward  at  a  good  rate  under  the  bending  oar, 
and  in  twenty  minutes  Aristarchi  was  at  the  entrance 
to  the  canal  of  San  Piero  and  within  sight  of  Bero- 
viero's  house. 

"  Easy  there,"  said  the  Greek,  holding  up  his  hand. 
"  Do  you  know  Murano  well,  my  man  ?  " 

"As  well  as  Venice,  sir." 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  99 

"  Whose  house  is  that,  which  has  the  upper  story 
built  on  columns  over  the  footway  ?  " 

"It  belongs  to  Messer  Angelo  Beroviero.  His 
glass-house  takes  up  all  the  left  side  of  the  canal  as 
far  as  the  bridge." 

"  And  beyond  the  bridge  I  can  see  two  new  houses, 
on  the  same  side.  Whose  are  they  ?  " 

"They  belong  to  the  two  sons  of  Messer  Angelo 
Beroviero,  who  have  furnaces  of  their  own,  all  the 
way  to  the  corner  of  the  Grand  Canal." 

"  Is  there  a  Grand  Canal  in  Murano  ? "  asked 
Aristarchi. 

"  They  call  it  so,"  answered  the  boatman  with 
some  contempt.  "  The  Beroviero  have  several  houses 
on  it,  too." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  Beroviero  owns  most  of 
Murano,"  observed  the  Greek.  "  He  must  be  very 
rich." 

"  He  is  by  far  the  richest.  But  there  is  Alvise 
Trevisan,  a  rich  man,  too,  and  there  are  two  or  three 
others.  The  island  and  all  the  glass-works  are  theirs, 
amongst  them." 

"  I  have  business  with  Messer  Angelo,"  said 
Aristarchi.  "  But  if  he  is  such  a  great  man  he  will 
hardly  be  in  the  glass-house." 

"  I  will  ask,"  answered  the  boatman. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  made  his  boat  fast  to  the  steps 
before  the  glass-house,  went  ashore  and  knocked  at 
the  door.  Aristarchi  leaned  back  in  his  seat,  chew- 
ing pistachio  nuts,  which  he  carried  in  an  embroidered 


100  MARIETTA 

leathern  bag  at  his  belt.     His  right  hand  played  me 
chanically  with  the  short  string  of  thick  amber  beads 
which  he  used   for  counting.     The    June  sun  blazed 
down  upon  his  swarthy  face. 

At  the  grating  beside  the  door  the  porter's  head 
appeared,  partially  visible  behind  the  bars. 

"  Is  Messer  Angelo  Beroviero  within  ? "  inquired 
the  boatman  civilly. 

"  What  is  your  business  ?  "  asked  the  porter  in  a 
tone  of  surly  contempt,  instead  of  answering  the 
question. 

"There  is  a  rich  foreign  gentleman  here,  who 
desires  to  speak  with  him,"  answered  the  boatman. 

"  Is  he  the  Pope  ? "  asked  the  porter,  with  fine 
irony. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  other,  intimidated  by  the  fellow's 
manner.  "  He  is  a  rich  —  " 

"Tell  him  to  wait,  then."  And  the  surly  head 
disappeared. 

The  boatman  supposed  that  the  man  was  gone 
to  speak  with  his  master,  and  waited  patiently  by 
the  door.  Aristarchi  chewed  his  pistachio  nut  till 
there  was  nothing  left,  at  which  time  he  reached 
the  end  of  his  patience.  He  argued  that  it  was  a 
good  sign  if  Angelo  Beroviero  kept  rich  strangers 
waiting  at  his  gate,  for  it  showed  that  he  had  no 
need  of  their  custom.  On  the  other  hand  the 
Greek's  dignity  was  offended  now  that  he  had  been 
made  to  wait  too  long,  for  he  was  hasty  by  nature. 
Once,  in  a  fit  of  irritation  with  a  Candiot  who  stam- 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  101 

mered  out  of  sheer  fright,  the  captain  had  ordered 
him  to  be  hanged.  Having  finished  his  nut,  he  stood 
up  in  the  boat  and  stepped  ashore. 

"  Knock  again,"  he  said  to  the  boatman,  who  o1  eyed. 

There  was  no  answer  this  time. 

"  I  can  hear  the  fellow  inside,"  said  the  boatman. 

The  grating  was  too  high  for  a  man  to  look  through 
it  from  outside.  Aristarchi  laid  his  knotty  hands  on 
the  stone  sill  and  pulled  himself  up  till  his  face  was 
against  the  grating.  He  now  looked  in  and  saw  the 
porter  sitting  in  his  chair. 

"Have  you  taken  my  message  to  your  master?" 
inquired  the  Greek. 

The  porter  looked  up  in  surprise,  which  increased 
when  he  caught  sight  of  the  ferocious  face  of  the 
speaker.  But  he  was  not  to  be  intimidated  so  easily. 

"  Messer  Angelo  is  not  to  be  disturbed  at  his  studies," 
he  said.  "  If  you  wait  till  noon,  perhaps  he  will  come 
out  to  go  to  dinner." 

"  Perhaps  !  "  repeated  Aristarchi,  still  hanging  bj 
his  hands.  "Do  you  think  I  shall  wait  all  day?" 

"  I  do  not  know.     That  is  your  affair." 

"  Precisely.     And  I  do  not  mean  to  wait." 

"Then  go  away." 

But  the  Greek  had  come  on  an  exploring  expedition 
in  which  he  had  nothing  to  lose.  Hauling  himself  up 
a  little  higher,  till  his  mouth  was  close  to  the  grating, 
he  hailed  the  house  as  he  would  have  hailed  a  ship  at 
sea,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

"  Ahoy  there  !    Is  any  one  withiA?    Ahoy  I    Ahoy  !  " 


102  MARIETTA 


This  was  more  than  the  porter's  equanimity  could 
bear.  He  looked  about  for  a  weapon  with  which  to 
attack  the  Greek's  face  through  the  bars,  heaping  upon 
him  a  torrent  of  abuse  in  the  meantime. 

"  Son  of  dogs  and  mules  I  "  he  cried  in  a  rising  growl. 
"  111  befall  the  foul  souls  of  thy  dead  and  of  their  dead 
before  them." 

"Ahoy  —  oh!  Ahoy  I"  bellowed  the  Greek,  who 
now  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  situation. 

The  boatman,  anxious  for  drink  money,  and  con- 
vinced that  his  huge  employer  would  get  the  better 
of  the  porter,  had  obligingly  gone  down  upon  his  hands 
and  knees,  thrusting  his  broad  back  under  the  captain's 
feet,- so  that  Aristarchi  stood  upon  him  and  was  now 
prepared  to  prolong  the  interview  without  any  further 
effort.  His  terrific  shouts  rang  through  the  corridor 
to  the  garden. 

The  first  person  to  enter  the  little  lodge  was  Marietta 
herself,  and  the  Greek  broke  off  short  in  the  middle  of 
another  tremendous  yell  as  soon  as  he  saw  her.  She 
turned  her  face  up  to  him,  quite  fearlessly,  and  was 
very  much  inclined  to  laugh  as  she  saw  the  sudden 
change  in  his  expression. 

"  Madam,"  he  said  with  great  politeness,  "  I  beg  you 
to  forgive  my  manner  of  announcing  myself.  If  your 
porter  were  more  obliging,  I  should  have  been  admitted 
in  the  ordinary  way." 

"What  is  this  atrocious  disturbance?"  asked  Zorzi, 
entering  before  Marietta  could  answer.  "Pray  leave 
the  fellow  to  me,"  he  added,  speaking  to  Marietta,  who 
cast  one  more  glance  at  Aristarchi  and  went  outc 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  103 

"Sir,"  said  the  captain  blandly,  "I  admit  that  my 
behaviour  may  give  you  some  right  to  call  me  '  fellow,' 
but  I  trust  that  my  apology  will  make  you  consider  me 
a  gentleman  like  yourself.  Your  porter  altogether  re- 
fused to  take  a  message  to  Messer  Angelo  Beroviero. 
May  I  ask  whether  you  are  his  son,  sir?  " 

"  No,  sir.  You  say  that  you  wish  to  speak  with  the 
master.  I  can  take  a  message  to  him,  but  I  am  not 
sure  that  he  will  see  any  one  to-day." 

Aristarchi  imagined  that  Beroviero  made  himself 
inaccessible,  in  order  to  increase  the  general  idea  of 
his  wealth  and  importance.  He  resolved  to  convey  a 
strong  impression  of  his  own  standing. 

"  I  am  the  chief  partner  in  a  great  house  of  Greek 
merchants  settled  in  Palermo,"  he  said.  "  My  name  is 
Charalambos  Aristarchi,  and  I  desire  the  honour  of 
speaking  with  Messer  Angelo  about  the  purchase  of 
several  cargoes  of  glass  for  the  King  of  Sicily." 

"  I  will  deliver  your  message,  sir,"  said  Zorzi. 
"Pray  wait  a  minute,  I  will  open  the  door." 

Aristarchi's  big  head  disappeared  at  last. 

"  Yes  1 "  growled  the  porter  to  Zorzi.  "  Open  the 
door  yourself,  and  take  the  blame.  The  man  has  the 
face  of  a  Turkish  pirate,  and  his  voice  is  like  the  bel- 
lowing of  several  bulls." 

Zorzi  unbarred  the  door,  which  opened  inward,  and 
Aristarchi  turned  a  little  sideways  in  order  to  enter, 
for  his  shoulders  would  have  touched  the  two  door- 
posts. The  slight  and  gracefully  built  Dalmatian 
looked  at  him  with  some  curiosity,  standing  aside  to 


104  MARIETTA 

let  him  pass,  before  barring  the  door  again.  Aris- 
tarchi,  though  not  much  taller  than  himself,  was  the 
biggest  man  he  had  ever  seen.  He  thanked  Zorzi,  who 
pushed  forward  the  porter's  only  chair  for  him  to  sit 
on  while  he  waited. 

"I  will  bring  you  an  answer  immediately,"  said 
Zorzi,  and  disappeared  down  the  corridor. 

Aristarchi  sat  down,  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other, 
and  took  a  pistachio  nut  from  his  pouch. 

"  Master  porter,"  he  began  in  a  friendly  tone,  "  can 
you  tell  me  who  that  beautiful  lady  is,  who  came  here 
a  moment  ago  ?  " 

"There  is  no  reason  why  I  should,"  snarled  the 
porter,  beginning  to  strip  the  outer  leaves  from  a  large 
onion  which  he  pulled  from  a  string  of  them  hanging 
by  the  wall. 

Aristarchi  said  nothing  for  a  few  moments,  but 
watched  the  man  with  an  air  of  interest. 

"  Were  you  ever  a  pirate  ?  "  he  inquired  presently. 

"  No,  I  never  served  in  your  crew." 

The  porter  was  not  often  at  a  loss  for  a  surly  answer. 
The  Greek  laughed  outright,  in  genuine  amusement. 

"  I  like  your  company,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  I 
should  like  to  spend  the  day  here." 

"As  the  devil  said  to  Saint  Anthony,"  concluded  the 
porter. 

Aristarchi  laughed  again.  It  was  long  since  he  had 
enjoyed. such  amusing  conversation,  and  there  was  a 
certain  novelty  in  not  being  feared.  He  repeated  his 
first  question,  however,  remembering  that  he  had  not 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  105 

come  in  search  of  diversion,  but  to  gather  informa- 
tion. 

"Who  was  t  ie  beautiful  lady?"  he  asked.  "She 
is  Messer  Angdo's  daughter,  is  she  not?" 

"  A  man  who  asks  a  question  when  he  knows  the 
answer  is  either  a  fool  or  a  knave.  Choose  as  you 
please." 

"  Thanks,  friend,"  answered  Aristarchi,  still  grinning 
and  showing  his  jagged  teeth.  "  I  leave  the  first  choice 
to  you.  Whichever  you  take,  I  will  take  the  other. 
For  if  you  call  me  a  knave,  I  shall  call  you  a  fool,  but 
if  you  think  me  a  fool,  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  you 
should  be  the  knave." 

The  porter  snarled,  vaguely  feeling  that  the  Greek 
had  the  better  of  him.  At  that  moment  Zorzi  returned, 
and  his  coming  put  an  end  to  the  exchange  of  amenities. 

"  My  master  has  no  long  leisure,"  he  said, "  but  he 
begs  you  to  come  in." 

They  left  the  lodge  together,  and  the  porter  watched 
them  as  they  went  down  the  dark  corridor,  muttering 
unholy  things  about  the  visitor  who  had  disturbed  him, 
and  bestowing  a  few  curses  on  Zorzi.  Then  he  went 
back  to  peeling  his  onions. 

As  Aristarchi  went  through  the  garden,  he  saw  Mari- 
etta sitting  under  the  plane-tree,  making  a  little  net  oi 
coloured  beads.  Her  face  was  turned  from  him  and 
bent  down,  but  when  he  had  passed  she  glanced  fur 
tively  after  him,  wondering  at  his  size.  But  her  eyes 
followed  Zorzi,  till  the  two  reached  the  door  and  went 
in.  A  moment  later  Zorzi  came  out  again,  leaving  his 


106  MARIETTA 

master  and  the  Greek  together.  Mariei  ta  looked  down 
at  once,  lest  her  eyes  should  betray  I  *r  gladness,  for 
she  knew  that  Zorzi  would  not  go  bac  and  could  not 
leave  the  glass-house,  so  that  she  shoul  1  necessarily  be 
alone  with  him  while  the  interview  in  the  laboratory 
lasted. 

He  came  a  little  way  down  the  path,  then  stopped, 
took  a  short  knife  from  his  wallet  and  began  to  trim 
away  a  few  withered  sprigs  from  a  rose-bush.  She 
waited  a  moment,  but  he  showed  no  signs  of  coming 
nearer,  so  she  spoke  to  him. 

"  Will  you  come  here  ? "  she  asked  softly,  looking 
towards  him  with  half-closed  eyes. 

He  slipped  the  knife  back  into  his  pouch  and  walked 
quickly  to  her  side.  She  looked  down  again,  threading 
the  coloured  beads  that  half  filled  a  small  basket  in  her 
lap. 

"  May  I  ask  you  a  question  ?  "  Her  voice  had  a  lit- 
tle persuasive  hesitation  in  it,  as  if  she  wished  him  to 
understand  that  the  answer  would  be  a  favour  of  which 
she  was  anything  but  certain. 

"  Anything  you  will,"  said  Zorzi. 

"Provided  I  do  not  ask  about  my  father's  secret !" 
A  little  laughter  trembled  in  the  words.  "  You  were 
so  severe  yesterday,  you  know.  I  am  almost  afraid 
ever  to  ask  you  anything  again." 

"  I  will  answer  as  well  as  I  can." 

"  Well  —  tell  me  this.  Did  you  really  take  the  boat 
and  go  to  Venice  last  night  ?  " 

"Yes." 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  107 

Marietta's  hand  moved  with  the  needle  among  the 
beads,  but  she  did  not  thread  one.  Nella  had  been 
right,  after  all. 

"  Why  did  you  go,  Zorzi  ?  "  The  question  came  in  a 
lower  tone  that  was  full  of  regret. 

"  The  master  sent  me,"  answered  Zorzi,  looking  down 
at  her  hair,  and  wishing  that  he  could  see  her  face. 

His  wish  was  almost  instantly  fulfilled.  After  the 
slightest  pause  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  lovely 
smile  ;  yet  when  he  saw  that  rare  look  in  her  face,  his 
heart  sank  suddenly,  instead  of  swelling  and  standing 
still  with  happiness,  and  when  she  saw  how  sad  he  was, 
she  was  grave  with  the  instant  longing  to  feel  whatever 
he  felt  of  pain  or  sorrow.  That  is  one  of  the  truest 
signs  of  love,  but  Zorzi  had  not  learned  much  of  love's 
sign-language  yet,  and  did  not  understand. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  almost  tenderly. 

He  turned  his  eyes  from  her  and  rested  one  hand 
against  the  trunk  of  the  plane-tree. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Why  are  you  so  sad  ?  What  is  it  that  is  always 
making  you  suffer  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  tell  you  ?  "  The  words  were  spoken 
almost  under  his  breath. 

"  It  would  be  very  easy  to  tell  me,"  she  said.  "  Per- 
haps I  could  help  you  — 

"  Oh  no,  no,  no  !  "  he  cried  with  an  accent  of  real 
pain.  "  You  could  not  help  me  !  " 

"Who  knows?  Perhaps  I  am  the  best  friend  you 
have  in  the  world,  Zorzi." 


108  MARIETTA 

"  Indeed  I  believe  you  are  !  No  one  has  ever  been 
so  good  to  me." 

"And  you  have  not  many  friends,"  continued  Mari- 
etta. "  The  workmen  are  jealous  of  you,  because  you 
are  always  with  my  father.  My  brothers  do  not  like 
you,  for  the  same  reason,  and  they  think  that  you  will 
get  my  father's  secret  from  him  some  day,  and  outdo 
them  all.  No  —  you  have  not  many  friends." 

"I  have  none,  but  you  and  the  master.  The  men 
would  kill  me  if  they  dared." 

Marietta  started  a  little,  remembering  how  the 
workmen  had  looked  at  him  in  the  morning,  when  he 
came  out. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid,"  he  added,  seeing  her 
movement.  "  They  will  not  touch  me." 

"  Does  my  father  know  what  your  trouble  is?"  asked 
Marietta  suddenly. 

"  No  !  That  is  —  I  have  no  trouble,  I  assure  you. 
I  am  of  a  melancholy  nature." 

"I  am  glad  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  secrets," 
said  the  young  girl,  quietly  ignoring  the  last  part  of 
his  speech.  "If  it  had,  I  could  not  help  you  at  all. 
Could  I  ?  " 

That  morning  it  had  seemed  an  easy  thing  to  wait 
even  two  years  before  giving  him  a  sign,  before  drop- 
ping in  his  path  the  rose  which  she  would  not  ask  of 
him  again.  The  minutes  seemed  years  now.  For  she 
knew  well  enough  what  his  trouble  was,  since  yester- 
day ;  he  loved  her,  and  he  thought  it  infinitely  im- 
possible, in  his  modesty,  that  she  should  ever  stoop  to 


A  MAID   OF    VENICE  109 

him.  After  she  had  spoken,  she  looked  at  him  with 
half-closed  eyes  for  a  while,  but  he  stared  stonily  at 
the  trunk  of  the  tree  beside  his  hand.  Gradually,  as 
she  gazed,  her  lids  opened  wider,  and  the  morning  sun- 
light sparkled  in  the  deep  blue,  and  her  fresh  lips 
parted.  Before  she  was  aware  of  it  he  was  looking 
at  her  with  a  strange  expression  she  had  never  seen. 
Then  she  faintly  blushed  and  looked  down  at  her 
beads  once  more.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  told  him  that 
she  loved  him.  But  he  had  not  understood.  He  had 
only  seen  the  transfiguration  of  her  face,  and  it  had 
been  for  a  moment  as  he  had  never  seen  it  before. 
Again  his  heart  sank  suddenly,  and  he  uttered  a  little 
sound  that  was  more  than  a  sigh  and  less  than  a 
groan. 

"  There  are  remedies  for  almost  every  kind  of  pain," 
said  Marietta  wisely,  as  she  threaded  several  beads. 

"  Give  me  one  for  mine,"  he  cried  almost  bitterly. 
"  Bid  that  which  is  to  cease  from  beingT  and  that  to  be 
which  is  not  earthly  possible  !  Turn  the  world  back, 
and  undo  truth,  and  make  it  all  a  dream  !  Then  I 
shall  find  the  remedy  and  forget  that  it  was  Heeded." 

"  There  are  magicians  who  pretend  to  do  such 
things,"  she  answered  softhr. 

"  I  would  there  were  !  "  he  sighed. 

"  But  those  who  come  to  them  for  help  tell  all,  else 
the  magician  has  no  power.  Would  you  call  a  physi- 
cian, if  you  were  ill,  and  tell  him  that  the  pain  you 
felt  was  in  your  head,  if  it  was  really — in  your 
heart?" 


110  MARIETTA 

She  had  paused  an  instant  before  speaking  the  last 
words,  and  they  came  with  a  little  effort. 

"  How  could  the  physician  cure  you,  if  you  would 
not  tell  him  the  truth  ?  "  she  asked,  as  he  said  nothing. 
"  How  can  the  wizard  work  miracles  for  you,  unless  he 
knows  what  miracle  you  ask  ?  How  can  your  best 
friend  help  you  if  —  if  she  does  not  know  what  help 
you  need  ?  " 

Still  he  was  silent,  leaning  against  the  tree,  with  bent 
head.  The  pain  was  growing  worse,  and  harder  to 
bear.  She  spoke  so  softly  and  kindly  that  it  would 
have  been  easy  to  tell  her  the  truth,  he  thought,  for 
though  she  could  never  love  him,  she  would  under- 
stand, and  would  forgive  him.  He  had  not  dreamed 
that  friendship  could  be  so  kind. 

"  Am  I  right?  "  she  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Yes^"  he  answered.  "  When  I  cannot  bear  it  any 
longer,  I  will  tell  you,  and  you  will  help  me." 

"  Why  n^jjfow  ?  " 

The  little  question  might  have  been  ruinous  to  all 
his  resolution,  if  Zorzi  had  not  been  almost  like  a  child 
in  his  Simplicity  —  or  like  a  saint  in  his  determination 
to  be  loyal.  For  he  thought  it  loyalty  to  be  silent,  not 
only  for  the  sake  of  the  promise  he  had  given  in  return 
for  his  life,  but  in  respect  of  his  master  also,  who  put 
such  great  trust  in  him. 

"  Pray  do  not  press  me  with  the  question,"  he  said. 
"  You  tempt  me  very  much,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  speak 
of  what  I  feel.  Be  my  friend  in  real  truth,  if  you  can, 
and  do  not  ask  me  to  say  what  I  shall  ever  after  wish 
unsaid.  That  will  be  the  best  friendship." 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  111 

Marietta  looked  across  the  garden  thoughtfully,  and 
suddenly  a  chilling  doubt  fell  upon  her  heart.  She 
could  not  have  been  mistaken  yesterday,  she  could  not 
•be  deceived  in  him  now  ;  and  yet,  if  he  loved  her  as 
she  believed,  she  had  said  all  that  a  maiden  could  to 
show  him  that  she  would  listen  willingly.  She  had 
said  too  much,  and  she  felt  ashamed  and  hurt,  almost 
resentful.  He  was  not  a  boy.  If  he  loved  her,  he 
could  find  words  to  tell  her  so,  and  should  have  found 
them,  for  she  had  helped  him  to  her  utmost.  Sud- 
denly, she  almost  hated  him,  for  what  his  silence  made 
her  feel,  and  she  told  herself  that  she  was  glad  he  had 
not  dared  to  speak,  for  she  did  not  love  him  at  all.  It 
was  all  a  sickening  mistake,  it  was  all  a  miserable  little 
dream  ;  she  wished  that  he  would  go  away  and  leave 
her  to  herself.  Not  that  she  .should  shed  a  single  tear  ! 
She  was  far  too  angry  for  that,  but  his'presence,  so 
near  her,  reminded  her  of  what  she  had  done.  He 
must  have  seen,  all  through  their  talk,  that  she  was 
trying  to  make  him  tell  his  love,  and  there  was  nothing 
to  tell.  Of  course  he  would  despise  her.  That  was 
natural,  but  she  had  a  right  to  hate  him  for  it,  and  she 
would,  with  all  her  heart !  Her  thoughts  all  came 
together  in  a  tumult  of  disgust  and  resentment.  If 
Zorzi  did  not  go  away  presently,  she  would  go  away 
herself.  She  was  almost  resolved  to  get  up  and  leave 
the  garden,  when  the  door  opened. 

"  Zorzi  I  "     It  was  Beroviero's  voice. 

Aristarchi  already  stood  in  the  doorway  taking  leave 
of  Beroviero  with  many  oily  protestations  of  satisf  action 


112  MARIETTA 

in  having  made  his  acquaintance.  Zorzi  went  forward 
to  accompany  the  Greek  to  the  door. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  that  I  have  had  the  honour  of 
being  received  by  the  great  artist  himself,"  said 
Aristarchi,  who  held  his  big  cap  in  his  hand  and  was 
bowing  low  on  the  threshold. 

"The  pleasure  has  been  all  on  my  side,"  returned 
Beroviero  courteously. 

"On  the  contrary,  quite  on  the  contrary,"  protested 
his  guest,  backing  away  and  then  turning  to  go. 

Zorzi  walked  beside  him,  «n  his  left.  As  they 
reached  the  entrance  to  the  corridor  Aristarchi  turned 
once  more,  and  made  an  elaborate  bow,  sweeping  the 
ground  with  his  cap,  for  Beroviero  had  remained  at  the 
door  till  he  should  be  out  of  sight.  He  bent  his  head, 
making  a  gracious  gesture  with  his  hand,  and  went  in 
as  the  Greek  disappeared.  Zorzi  followed  the  latter, 
showing  him  out. 

Marietta  saw  the  door  close  after  her  father,  and  she 
knew  that  Zorzi  must  come  back  through  the  garden  in 
a  few  moments.  She  bent  her  head  over  her  beads  as 
she  heard  his  step,  and  pretended  not  to  see  him. 
When  he  came  near  her  he  stood  still  a  moment,  but 
she  would  not  look  up,  and  between  annoyance  and 
disappointment  and  confusion  she  felt  that  she  was 
blushing,  which  she  would  not  have  had  Zorzi  see  for 
anything.  She  wondered  why  he  did  not  go  on. 

"  Have  I  offended  you  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

Oddly  enough,  her  embarrassment  disappeared  as 
soon  as  he  spoke,  and  the  blush  faded  away. 


A  MAID  OP  VENICE  118 

**No,"  she  answered,  coldly  enough,  "I  am  not 
angry  —  I  am  only  sorry/* 

"But  I  am  glad  that  I  would  not  answer  your 
question,"  returned  Zorzi. 

"I  doubt  whether  you  had  any  answer  to  give,'* 
retorted  Marietta  with  a  touch  of  scorn. 

Zorzi's  brows  contracted  sharply  and  he  made  a 
movement  to  go  on.  So  her  proffered  friendship  was 
worth  no  more  than  that,  he  thought.  She  was  angry 
and  scornful  because  her  curiosity  was  disappointed. 
She  could  not  have  guessed  his  secret,  he  was  sure, 
though  that  might  account  for  her  temper,  for  she 
would  of  course  be  angry  if  she  knew  that  he  loved 
her.  And  she  was  angry  now  because  he  had  refused 
to  tell  her  so.  That  was  a  woman's  logic,  he  thought, 
quite  regardless  of  the  defect  in  his  own.  It  was  just 
like  a  woman !  He  sincerely  wished  that  he  might  tell 
her  so. 

In  the  presence  of  Marietta  the  man  who  had  con- 
fronted sudden  death  less  than  twenty-four  hours  ago, 
with  a  coolness  that  had  seemed  imposing  to  other 
men,  was  little  better  than  a  girl  himself.  He  turned 
to  go  on,  without  saying  more.  But  she  stopped 
him. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  do  not  care  for  my  friendship," 
she  said,  in  a  hurt  tone.  She  could  not  have  said  any- 
thing which  he  would  have  found  it  harder  to  answer 
just  then. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?  "  he  asked,  hoping  to 
gain  time. 


114  MAKIETTA 

"  Many  things.  It  is  quite  true,  so  it  does  not  mat- 
ter what  makes  me  think  it  !  " 

She  tried  to  laugh  scornfully,  but  there  was  a  quaver 
in  her  voice  which  she  herself  had  not  expected  and  was 
very  far  from  understanding.  Why  should  she  sud- 
denly feel  that  she  was  going  to  cry  ?  It  had  seemed 
so  ridiculous  in  poor  Nella  that  morning.  Yet  there 
was  a  most  unmistakable  something  in  her  throat,  which 
frightened  her.  It  would  be  dreadful  if  she  should 
burst  into  tears  over  her  beads  before  Zorzi's  eyes.  She 
tried  to  gulp  the  something  down,  and  suddenly,  as  she 
bent  over  the  basket,  she  saw  the  beautiful,  hateful 
drops  falling  fast  upon  the  little  dry  glass  things  ;  and 
even  then,  in  her  shame  at  being  seen,  she  wondered 
why  the  beads  looked  bigger  through  the  glistening 
tears  —  she  remembered  afterwards  how  they  looked,  so 
she  must  have  noticed  them  at  the  time. 

Zorzi  knew  too  little  of  women  to  have  any  idea  of 
what  he  ought  to  do  under  the  circumstances.  He  did 
not  know  whether  to  turn  his  back  or  to  go  away,  so 
he  stood  still  and  looked  at  her,  which  was  the  very 
worst  thing  he  could  have  done.  Worse  still,  he  tried 
to  reason  with  her. 

"  I  assure  you  that  you  are  mistaken,"  he  said  in  a 
soothing  tone.  "I  wish  for  your  friendship  with  all 
my  heart !  Only,  when  you  ask  me  — 

"  Oh,  go  away !  For  heaven's  sake  go  away ! " 
cried  Marietta,  almost  choking,  and  turning  her  face 
quite  away,  so  that  he  could  only  see  the  back  of  her 
head. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  115 

At  the  same  time,  she  tapped  the  ground  impatiently 
with  her  foot,  and  to  make  matters  worse,  the  little 
basket  of  beads  began  to  slip  off  her  knees  at  the  same 
moment.  She  caught  at  it  desperately,  trying  not  to 
look  round  and  half  blinded  by  her  tears,  but  she  missed 
it,  and  but  for  Zorzi  it  would  have  fallen.  He  put  it 
into  her  hands  very  gently,  but  she  was  not  in  the  least 
grateful. 

"  Oh,  please  go  away !  "  she  repeated.  "  Can  you 
not  understand?" 

He  did  not  understand,  but  he  obeyed  her  and  turned 
away,  very  grave,  very  much  puzzled  by  this  new  devel- 
opment of  affairs,  and  sincerely  wishing  that  some  wise 
familiar  spirit  would  whisper  the  explanation  in  his  ear, 
since  he  could  not  possibly  consult  any  living  person. 

She  heard  him  go  and  she  listened  for  the  shutting 
of  the  laboratory  door.  Then  she  knew  that  she  was 
quite  alone  in  the  garden,  and  she  let  the  tears  flow  as 
they  would,  bending  her  head  till  it  touched  the  trunk 
of  the  tree,  and  they  wet  the  smooth  bark  and  ran 
down  to  the  dry  earth. 

Zorzi  went  in,  and  began  to  tend  the  fire  as  usual, 
until  it  should  please  the  master  to  give  him  other 
orders.  Old  Beroviero  was  sitting  in  the  big  chair  in 
which  he  sometimes  rested  himself,  his  elbow  on  one 
of  its  arms,  and  his  hand  grasping  his  beard  below  his 
chin. 

"  Zorzi,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  have  seen  that  man 
before." 

Zorzi  looked  at  him,  expecting  more,  but  for  some 


116  MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF  VENICE 

time  Beroviero  said  nothing.  The  young  man  selected 
his  pieces  of  beech  wood,  laying  them  ready  before  the 
little  opening  just  above  the  floor. 

•'  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Beroviero  at  last.  "  He 
seems  to  be  a  rich  merchant  now,  but  I  am  almost  quite 
sure  that  I  saw  him  in  Naples." 

"  Did  you  know  him  there,  sir  ?  "  asked  Zorzi. 

"No,"  answered  his  master  thoughtfully.  "I  saw 
him  in  a  cart  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him,  on  his 
way  to  be  hanged." 

"  He  looks  as  if  one  hanging  would  not  be  enough 
for  him,"  observed  Zorzi. 

Beroviero  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  laughed, 
and  he  laughed  very  rarely. 

".Yes,"  he  said.  "  It  is  not  a  face  one  could  forget 
easily,"  he  added. 

Then  he  rose  and  went  back  to  his  table. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  sun  was  high  over  Venice,  gleaming  on  the  blue 
lagoons  that  lightly  rippled  under  a  southerly  breeze, 
filling  the  vast  square  of  Saint  Mark's  with  blinding 
light,  casting  deep  shadows  behind  the  church  and  in 
the  narrow  alleys  and  canals  to  northward,  about  the 
Merceria.  The  morning  haze  had  long  since  blown 
away,  and  the  outlines  of  the  old  church  and  monastery 
on  Saint  George's  island,  and  of  the  buildings  on  the 
Guidecca,  and  on  the  low-lying  Lido,  were  hard  and 
clear  against  the  cloudless  sky,  mere  designs  cut  out 
in  rich  colours,  as  if  with  a  sharp  knife,  and  reared  up 
against  a  background  of  violent  light.  In  Venice  only 
the  melancholy  drenching  rain  of  a  winter's  day  brings 
rest  to  the  eye,  when  water  meets  water  and  sky  is 
washed  into  sea  and  the  city  lies  soaking  and  dripping 
between  two  floods.  But  soon  the  wind  shifts  to  the 
northeast,  out  breaks  the  sun  again,  and  all  Venice  is 
instantly  in  a  glare  of  light  and  colour  and  startling 
distinctness,  like  the  sails  and  rigging  of  a  ship  at  sea 
on  a  clear  day. 

It  was  Sunday  morning  and  high  mass  was  over  in 
Saint  Mark's.  The  crowd  had  streamed  out  of  the 
central  door,  spreading  like  a  bright  fan  over  the 

117 


118  MARIETTA 

square,  the  men  in  gay  costumes,  red,  green,  blue, 
yellow,  purple,  brown,  and  white,  their  legs  parti- 
coloured in  halves  and  quarters,  so  that  when  looking 
at  a  group  it  was  mere  guesswork  to  match  the  pair 
that  belonged  to  one  man;  women  in  dresses  of  one 
tone,  mostly  rich  and  dark,  and  often  heavily  embroi 
clered,  for  no  sumptuary  laws  could  effectually  limit 
outward  display,  and  the  insolent  vanity  of  an  age  still 
almost  mediaeval  made  it  natural  that  the  rich  should 
attire  themselves  as  richly  as  they  could,  and  that  the 
poor  should  be  despised  for  wearing  poor  clothes. 

Angelo  Beroviero  had  a  true  Venetian's  taste  for 
splendour,  but  he  was  also  deeply  imbued  with  the 
Venetian  love  of  secrecy  in  all  matters  that  concerned 
his  private  life.  When  he  bade  Marietta  accompany 
him  to  Venice  on  that  Sunday  morning,  he  was  equally 
anxious  that  she  should  be  as  finely  dressed  as  was 
becoming  for  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  citizen,  and 
that  she  should  be  in  ignorance  of  the  object  of  the 
trip.  She  was  not  to  know  that  Jacopo  Contarini 
would  be  standing  beside  the  second  column  on  the 
left,  watching  her  with  lazily  critical  eyes ;  she  was 
merely  told  that  she  and  her  father  were  to  dine  in  the 
house  of  a  certain  Messer  Luigi  Foscarini,  Procurator 
of  Saint  Mark,  who  was  an  old  and  valued  friend, 
though  a  near  connection  of  Alvise  Trevisan,  a  rival 
glass-maker  of  Murano.  All  this  had  been  carefully 
planned  in  order  that  during  their  absence  Beroviero's 
house  might  be  suitably  prepared  for  the  solemn  family 
meeting  which  was  to  take  place  late  in  the  afternoon, 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  119 

and  at  which  her  betrothal  was  to  be  announced,  but 
of  which  Marietta  knew  nothing.  Her  father  counted 
upon  surprising  her  and  perhaps  dazzling  her,  so  as  to 
avoid  all  discussion  and  all  possibility  of  resistance  on 
her  part.  She  should  see  Contarini  in  the  church,  and 
while  still  under  the  first  impression  of  his  beauty  and 
magnificence,  she  should  be  told  before  her  assembled 
family  that  she  was  solemnly  bound  to  marry  him  in 
two  months'  time. 

Beroviero  never  expected  opposition  in  anything  he 
wished  to  do,  but  he  had  always  heard  that  young  girls 
could  find  a  thousand  reasons  for  not  marrying  the  man 
their  parents  chose  for  them,  and  he  believed  that  he 
could  make  all  argument  and  hesitation  impossible. 
Marietta  doubtless  expected  to  have  a  week  in  which 
to  make  up  her  mind.  She  should  have  five  hours,  and 
even  that  was  too  much,  thought  Beroviero.  He  would 
have  preferred  to  march  her  to  the  altar  without  any 
preliminaries  and  marry  her  to  Contarini  without  giving 
her  a  chance  of  seeing  him  before  the  ceremony.  After 
all,  that  was  the  custom  of  the  day. 

The  fortunes  of  love  were  in  his  favour,  for  Marietta 
had  spent  three  miserably  unhappy  days  and  nights 
since  she  had  last  talked  with  Zorzi  in  the  garden. 
From  that  time  he  had  avoided  her  most  carefully, 
never  coming  out  of  the  laboratory  when  she  was  under 
the  tree  with  her  work,  never  raising  his  eyes  to  look 
at  her  when  she  came  in  and  talked  with  her  father. 
When  she  entered  the  big  room,  he  made  a  solemn  bow 
and  occupied  himself  in  the  farthest  corner  so  long  as 


120  MARIETTA 

she  remained.  There  is  a  stage  in  which  even  the 
truest  and  purest  love  of  boy  and  maiden  feeds  on  mis- 
understandings. In  a  burst  of  tears,  and  ashamed 
that  she  should  be  seen  crying,  Marietta  had  bidden 
him  go  away ;  in  the  folly  of  his  young  heart  he  took 
her  at  her  word,  and  avoided  her  consistently.  He  had 
been  hurt  by  the  words,  but  by  a  kind  of  unconscious 
selfishness  his  pain  helped  him  to  do  what  he  believed 
to  be  his  duty. 

And  Marietta  forgot  that  he  had  picked  up  the  rose 
dropped  by  her  in  the  path,  she  forgot  that  she  had 
seen  him  stand  gazing  up  at  her  window,  with  a  look 
that  could  mean  only  love,  she  forgot  how  tenderly 
and  softly  he  had  answered  her  in  the  garden;  she 
only  remembered  that  she  had  done  her  utmost,  and 
too  much,  to  make  him  tell  her  that  he  loved  her,  and 
in  vain.  She  could  not  forgive  him  that,  for  even 
after  three  days  her  cheeks  burned  fiercely  whenever 
she  thought  of  it.  After  that,  it  mattered  nothing 
what  became  of  her,  whether  she  were  betrothed,  or 
whether  she  were  married,  or  whether  she  went  mad, 
or  even  whether  she  died  —  that  would  be  the  best  of 
all. 

In  this  mood  Marietta  entered  the  gondola  and 
seated  herself  by  her  father  on  Sunday  morning.  She 
wore  an  embroidered  gown  of  olive  green,  a  little  open 
at  her  dazzling  throat,  and  a  silk  mantle  of  a  darker 
tone  hung  from  her  shoulders,  to  protect  her  from  the 
sun  rather  than  from  the  air.  Her  russet  hair  was 

4 

plaited  in  a  thick  flat  braid,  and  brought   round   her 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  121 

head  like  a  broad  coronet  of  red  gold,  and  a  point  lace 
veil,  pinned  upon  it  with  stout  gold  pins,  hung  down 
behind  and  was  brought  forward  carelessly  upon  one 
shoulder. 

Beside  her,  Angelo  Beroviero  was  splendid  in  dark 
red  cloth  and  purple  silk.  He  was  proud  of  his 
daughter,  who  was  betrothe,d  to  the  heir  of  a  great 
Venetian  house,  he  was  proud  of  his  own  achievements, 
of  his  wealth,  of  the  richly  furnished  gondola,  of  his 
two  big  young  oarsmen  in  quartered  yellow  and  blue 
hose  and  snowy  shirts,  and  of  his  liveried  man  in  blue 
and  gold,  who  sat  outside  the  low  'felse'  on  a  little 
stool,  staff  in  hand,  ready  to  attend  upon  his  master 
and  young  mistress  whenever  they  should  please  to  go 
on  foot. 

Marietta  had  got  into  the  gondola  without  so  much 
as  glancing  across  the  canal  to  see  whether  Zorzi  were 
standing  there  to  see  them  push  off,  as  he  often  did 
when  she  and  her  father  went  out  together.  If  he 
were  there,  she  meant  to  show  him  that  she  could  be 
more  indifferent  than  he;  if  he  were  not,  she  would 
show  herself  that  she  did  not  care  enough  even  to  look 
for  him.  But  when  the  gondola  was  out  of  sight  of 
the  house  she  wished  she  knew  whether  he  had  looked 
out  or  not. 

Her  father  had  told  her  that  they  were  going  to  dine 
with  the  Procurator  Foscarini  and  his  wife.  The  pair 
had  one  daughter,  of  Marietta's  age,  and  she  was  a 
cripple  from  birth.  Marietta  was  fond  of  her,  and  it 
was  a  relief  to  get  away  from  Murano,  even  for  half  a 


122  MARIETTA 

day.  The  visit  explained  well  enough  why  her  father 
had  desired  her  to  put  on  her  best  gown  and  most  valu- 
able lace.  She  really  had  not  the  slightest  idea  that 
anything  more  important  was  on  foot. 

Beroviero  looked  at  her  in  silence  as  they  sped  along 
with  the  gently  rocking  motion  of  the  gondola,  which 
is  not  exactly  like  any  other  movement  in  the  world. 
He  had  already  noticed  that  she  was  paler  than  usual, 
but  the  extraordinary  whiteness  of  her  skin  made  her 
pallor  becoming  to  her,  and  it  was  set  off  by  the  colour 
of  her  hair,  as  ivory  by  rough  gold.  He  wondered 
whether  she  had  guessed  whither  he  was  taking  her. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  were  in  Saint  Mark's 
together,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  It  must  be  more  than  a  year,"  answered  Marietta. 
"  We  pass  it  often,  but  we  hardly  ever  go  in." 

"  It  is  early,"  observed  Beroviero,  speaking  as  indif- 
ferently as  he  could.  "  When  we  left  home  it  lacked 
an  hour  and  a  half  of  noon  by  the  dial.  Shall  we  go 
into  the  church  for  a  while?" 

"  If  you  like,"  replied  Marietta  mechanically. 

Nothing  made  much  difference  that  morning,  but 
she  knew  that  the  high  mass  would  be  over  and  that 
the  church  would  be  quiet  and  cool.  It  was  not  at 
that  time  the  cathedral  of  Venice,  though  it  had  always 
been  the  church  in  which  the  doges  worshipped  in  state. 

They  landed  at  the  low  steps  in  the  Rio  del  Palazzo, 
and  the  servant  held  out  his  bent  elbow  for  Marietta  to 
steady  herself,  though  he  knew  that  she  would  not 
touch  it,  for  she  was  light  and  sure-footed  as  a  fawn  ; 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  123 

but  Beroviero  leaned  heavily  on  his  man's  arm.  They 
came  round  the  Patriarch's  palace  into  the  open  square, 
whence  the  crowd  had  nearly  all  disappeared,  dispers- 
ing in  different  directions.  Just  as  they  were  within 
sight  of  the  great  doors  of  the  church,  Beroviero  saw 
a  very  tall  man  in  a  purple  silk  mantle  going  in 
alone.  It  was  Contarini,  and  Beroviero  drew  a  little 
sigh  of  relief.  The  intended  bridegroom  was  punctual, 
but  Beroviero  thought  that  he  might  have  shown  such 
anxiety  to  see  his  bride  as  should  have  brought  him  to 
the  door  a  few  minutes  before  the  time. 

Marietta  had  drawn  her  veil  across  her  face,  leaving 
only  her  eyes  uncovered,  according  to  custom. 

"  It  is  hot,"  she  complained. 

"  It  will  be  cool  in  the  church,"  answered  her  father. 
"  Throw  your  veil  back,  my  dear  —  there  is  no  one  to 
see  you." 

"  There  is  the  sun,"  she  said,  for  she  had  been  taught 
that  one  of  a  Venetian  lady's  chief  beauties  is  her  com- 
plexion. 

"Well,  well  —  there  will  be  no  sun  in  the  church." 
And  the  old  man  hurried  her  in,  without  bestowing  a 
glance  upon  the  bronze  horses  over  the  door,  to  admire 
which  he  generally  stopped  a  few  moments  in  passing. 

They  entered  the  great  church,  and  the  servant  went 
before  them,  dipped  his  fingers  in  the  basin  and  offered 
them  holy  water.  They  crossed  themselves,  and 
Marietta  bent  one  knee,  looking  towards  the  high  altar. 
A  score  of  people  were  scattered  about,  kneeling  and 
standing  in  the  nave. 


124  MARIETTA 

Contaririi  was  leaning  against  the  second  pillar  on 
the  left,  and  had  been  watching  the  door  when 
Marietta  and  her  father  entered.  Beroviero  saw  him 
at  once,  but  led  his  daughter  up  the  opposite  side  of 
the  nave,  knelt  down  beside  her  a  moment  at  the 
screen,  then  crossed  and  came  down  the  aisle,  and  at 
last  turned  into  the  nave  again  by  the  second  pillar,  so 
as  to  come  upon  Contarini  as  it  were  unawares.  This 
all  seemed  necessary  to  him  in  order  that  Marietta 
should  receive  a  very  strong  and  sudden  impression, 
which  should  leave  no  doubt  in  her  mind.  Contarini 
himself  was  too  thoroughly  Venetian  not  to  under- 
stand what  Beroviero  was  doing,  and  when  the  two 
came  upon  him,  he  was  drawn  up  to  his  full  height,  one 
gloved  hand  holding  his  cap  and  resting  on  his  hip;  the 
other,  gloveless,  and  white  as  a  woman's,  was  twisting 
his  silky  mustache.  Beroviero  had  manoeuvred  so 
cleverly  that  Marietta  almost  jostled  the  young  patri- 
cian as  she  turned  the  pillar. 

Contarini  drew  back  with  quick  grace  and  a  slight 
inclination  of  his  body,  and  then  pretended  the  utmost 
surprise  on  seeing  his  valued  friend  Messer  Angelo 
Beroviero. 

"  My  most  dear  sir !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  This  is  indeed 
good  fortune  !  " 

"  Mine,  Messer  Jacopo  !  "  returned  Beroviero  with 
equally  well-feigned  astonishment. 

Marietta  had  looked  Contarini  full  in  the  face  before 
she  had  time  to  draw  her  veil  across  her  own.  She 
stepped  back  and  placed  herself  behind  her  father,  pro- 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  125 

tected  as  it  were  by  their  serving-man,  who  stood 
beside  her  with  his  staff.  She  understood  instantly 
that  the  magnificent  patrician  was  the  man  of  whom 
her  father  had  spoken  as  her  future  husband.  Seen,  as 
she  had  seen  him,  in  the  glowing  church,  in  the  most 
splendid  surroundings  that  could  be  imagined,  he  was 
certainly  a  man  at  whom  any -woman  would  look  twice, 
even  out  of  curiosity,  and  through  her  veil  Marietta 
looked  again,  till  she  saw  his  soft,  brown  eyes  scruti- 
nising her  appearance  ;  then  she  turned  quickly  away, 
for  she  had  looked  long  enough.  She  saw  that  a  woman 
in  black  was  kneeling  by  the  next  pillar,  watching  her 
intently  with  a  sort  of  cold  stare  that  almost  made  her 
shudder.  Yet  the  woman  was  exceedingly  beautiful. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that,  though  the  dark  veil  hid  half 
her  face  and  its  folds  concealed  most  of  her  figure.  The 
mysterious,  almond-shaped  eyes  were  those  of  another 
race,  the  marble  cheek  was  more  perfectly  modelled  and 
turned  than  an  Italian's,  the  curling  golden  hair  was 
more  glorious  than  any  Venetian's.  Arisa  had  come 
to  see  her  master's  bride,  and  he  knew  that  she  was 
there  looking  on.  Why  should  he  care  ?  It  was  a 
bargain,  and  he  was  not  going  to  give  up  Arisa  and 
the  house  of  the  Agnus  Dei  because  he  meant  to  marry 
the  rich  glass-blower's  daughter. 

Marietta  imagined  no  connection  between  the  woman 
and  the  man,  who  thus  insolently  came  to  the  same 
place  to  look  at  her,  pretending  not  to  know  one 
another  ;  and  when  she  looked  back  at  Contarini  she 
felt  a  miserable  little  thrill  of  vanity  as  she  noticed 


126  MAKTBTTA 

that  he  was  looking  fixedly  at  her,  and  that  his  eyes 
did  not  wander  to  the  face  of  that  other  woman,  who 
was  so  much  more  beautiful  than  herself.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  he  would  really  prefer  her  to  that  matchless 
creature  close  beside  her  !  Nothing  mattered,  of  course, 
since  Zorzi  did  not  love  her,  but  after  all  it  was  flatter- 
ing to  be  admired  by  Jacopo  Contarini,  who  could 
choose  his  wife  where  he  pleased,  through  the  whole 
world. 

It  all  happened  in  a  few  seconds.  The  two  men  ex- 
changed a  few  words,  to  which  she  paid  no  attention, 
and  took  leave  of  each  other  with  great  ceremony  and 
much  bowing  on  both  sides.  When  her  father  turned 
at  last,  Marietta  was  already  walking  towards  the 
door,  the  servant  by  her  left  side.  Beroviero  had 
scarcely  joined  her  when  she  started  a  little,  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  The  Greek  merchant  !  "  she  whispered. 

Beroviero  looked  where  she  was  looking.  By  the 
first  pillar,  gazing  intently  at  Arisa's  kneeling  figure, 
stood  Aristarchi,  his  hands  folded  over  his  broad  chest, 
his  shaggy  head  bent  forward,  his  sturdy  legs  a  little 
apart.  He,  too,  had  come  to  see  the  promised  bride, 
and  to  be  a  witness  of  the  bargain  whereby  he  also 
was  to  be  enriched. 

As  Marietta  came  out  of  the  church,  she  covered 
her  face  closely  and  drew  her  silk  mantle  quite  round 
her,  bending  her  head  a  little.  The  servant  walked  a 
few  paces  in  front. 

"You  have  seen  your  future  husband,  my  child," 
said  Beroviero. 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  127 

"  I  suppose  that  the  young  noble  was  Messer  Jacopo 
Contarini,"  answered  Marietta  coldly. 

"  You  are  hard  to  please,  if  you  are  not  satisfied  with 
iny  choice  for  you,"  observed  her  father. 

To  this  Marietta  said  nothing.  She  only  bent  her 
head  a  little  lower,  looking  down  as  she  trod  delicately 
over  the  hot  and  dusty  ground. 

"And  you  are  a  most  ungrateful  daughter,"  con- 
tinued Beroviero,  "  if  you  do  not  appreciate  my  kind- 
ness and  liberality  of  mind  in  allowing  you  to  see  him 
before  you  are  formally  betrothed." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  even  more  pleased  by  your  liberality 
of  mind  than  I  could  possibly  be,"  retorted  the  young 
girl  with  unbending  coldness.  "  He  has  probably  not 
seen  many  Venetian  girls  of  our  class  face  to  face 
and  unveiled.  He  is  to  be  congratulated  on  his  good 
fortune  !  " 

"  By  my  faith  !  "  exclaimed  Beroviero,  "  it  is  hard 
to  satisfy  you  !  " 

"  I  have  asked  nothing." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  any  objections 
to  allege  against  such  a  marriage  ?  " 

"  Have  I  said  that  I  should  oppose  it  ?  One  may 
obey  without  enthusiasm."  She  laughed  coldly. 

"  Like  the  unprofitable  servant  1  I  had  expected 
something  more  of  you,  my  child.  I  have  been  at 
infinite  pains  and  I  am  making  great  sacrifices  to  pro- 
cure you  a  suitable  husband,  and  there  are  scores  of 
noble  girls  in  Venice  who  would  give  ten  years  of  their 
lives  to  marry  Jacopo  Contarini  I  And  you  say  that 


128  MARIETTA 

you  obey  my  commands  without  enthusiasm  I  You 
are  an  ungrateful  —  " 

"  No,  I  am  not  !  "  interrupted  Marietta  firmly.  "  I 
would  rather  not  marry  at  all  —  " 

"  Not  marry  !  "  repeated  Beroviero,  interrupting  her 
in  a  tone  of  profound  stupefaction,  and  standing  still  in 
the  sun  as  he  spoke.  "  Why  —  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Is  it  so  strange  that  I  should  be  contented  with  my 
girl's  life  ? "  asked  Marietta.  "  Should  I  not  be  un- 
grateful indeed,  if  I  wished  to  leave  you  and  become 
the  wife  of  a  man  I  have  just  seen  for  the  first  time  ?  " 

44  You  use  most  extraordinary  arguments,  my  dear," 
replied  Beroviero,  quite  at  a  loss  for  a  suitable  retort. 
"  Of  course,  I  have  done  my  best  to  make  you  happy." 

He  paused,  for  she  had  placed  him  in  the  awkward 
position  of  being  angry  because  she  did  not  wish  to 
leave  him. 

"  I  really  do  not  know  what  to  say,"  he  added,  after 
a  moment's  reflection. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  nothing  to  be  said,"  answered 
Marietta,  in  a  tone  of  irritating  superiority,  for  she 
certainly  had  the  best  of  the  discussion. 

They  had  reached  the  gondola  by  this  time,  and  as 
the  servant  sat  within  hearing  at  the  open  door  of  the 
4  felse,'  they  could  not  continue  talking  about  such  a 
matter.  Beroviero  was  glad  of  it,  for  he  regarded 
the  affair  as  settled,  and  considered  that  it  should  be 
hastened  to  its  conclusion  without  any  further  reason- 
ing about  it.  If  he  had  sent  word  to  young  Contarini 
that  the  answer  should  be  given  him  in  a  week,  that 


A   MAID   OF  VENICE  129 

was  merely  an  imaginary  formality  invented  to  cover 
his  own  dignity,  since  he  had  so  far  derogated  from  it 
as  to  allow  the  young  man  to  see  Marietta.  In  reality 
the  marriage  had  been  determined  and  settled  between 
Beroviero  and  Contarini's  father  before  anything  had 
been  said  to  either  of  the  young  people.  The  meeting 
in  the  church  might  have  been  dispensed  with,  if  the 
patrician  had  been  able  to  answer  with  certainty  for 
his  wild  son's  conduct.  Jacopo  had  demanded  it,  and 
his  father  was  so  anxious  for  the  marriage  that  he  had 
communicated  the  request  to  Beroviero.  The  latter, 
always  for  his  dignity's  sake,  had  pretended  to  refuse, 
and  had  then  secretly  arranged  the  matter  for  Jacopo, 
as  has  been  seen,  without  old  Contarini's  knowledge. 

Marietta  leaned  back  under  the  cool,  dark  'felse,' 
and  her  hands  lay  idly  in  her  lap.  She  felt  that  she 
was  helpless,  because  she  was  indifferent,  and  that  she 
could  even  now  have  changed  the  course  of  her  destiny 
if  she  had  cared  to  make  the  effort.  There  was  no 
reason  for  making  any.  She  did  not  believe  that  she 
had  really  loved  Zorzi  after  all,  and  if  she  had,  it 
seemed  to-day  quite  impossible  that  she  should  ever 
have  married  him.  He  was  nothing  but  a  waif,  a  half- 
nameless  servant,  a  stranger  predestined  to  a  poor  and 
obscure  life.  As  she  inwardly  repeated  some  of  these 
considerations,  she  felt  a  little  thrust  of  remorse  for 
trying  to  look  down  on  him  as  impossibly  far  below 
her  own  station,  and  a  small  voice  told  her  that  he  was 
an  artist,  and  that  if  he  had  chanced  to  be  born  in  Ven- 
ice he  would  have  been  as  good  as  her  brothers. 
K 


130  MARIETTA 

The  future  stretched  out  before  her  in  a  sort  of  dull 
magnificence  that  did  not  in  the  least  appeal  to  her 
simple  nature.  She  could  not  tell  why  she  had  de- 
spised Jacopo  Contarini  from  the  moment  she  looked 
into  his  beautiful  eyes.  Happily  women  are  not  ex- 
pected to  explain  why  they  sometimes  judge  rightly 
at  first  sight,  when  a  wise  man  is  absurdly  deceived. 
Marietta  did  not  understand  Jacopo,  and  she  easily 
fancied  that  because  her  own  character  was  the 
stronger  she  should  rule  him  as  easily  as  she  man- 
aged Nella.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  he  was 
already  under  the  domination  of  another  woman,  who 
might  prove  to  be  quite  as  strong  as  she.  What  she 
saw  was  the  weakness  in  his  eyes  and  mouth.  With 
such  a  man,  she  thought,  there  was  little  to  fear ;  but 
there  was  nothing  to  love.  If  she  asked,  he  would 
give,  if  she  opposed  him,  he  would  surrender,  if  she 
lost  her  temper  and  commanded,  he  would  obey  with 
petulant  docility.  She  should  be  obliged  to  take 
refuge  in  vanity  in  order  to  get  any  satisfaction  out 
of  her  life,  and  she  was  not  naturally  vain.  The  luxu- 
ries of  those  days  were  familiar  to  her  from  her  child- 
hood. Though  she  had  not  lived  in  a  palace,  she  had 
been  brought  up  in  a  house  that  was  not  unlike  one, 
she  ate  off  silver  plates  and  drank  from  glasses  that 
were  masterpieces  of  her  father's  art,  she  had  coffers 
full  of  silks  and  satins,  and  fine  linen  embroidered  with 
gold  thread,  there  was  always  gold  and  silver  in  her 
little  wallet-purse  when  she  wanted  anything  or  wished 
to  give  to  the  poor,  she  was  waited  on  by  a  maid  of  her 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  131 

own  like  any  fine  lady  of  Venice,  and  there  were  a  score 
of  idle  servants  in  a  house  where  there  were  only  two 
masters  —  there  was  nothing  which  Contarini  could 
give  her  that  would  be  more  ilian  a  little  useless  ex- 
aggeration of  what  she  had  already.  She  had  no 
particular  desire  to  show  herself  unveiled  to  the  world, 
as  married  women  did,  and  she  was  not  especially  at- 
tracted by  the  idea  of  becoming  one  of  them.  She  had 
been  brought  up  alone,  she  had  acquired  tastes  which 
other  women  had  not,  and  which  would  no  longer  be 
satisfied  in  her  married  life,  she  loved  the  glass-house, 
she  delighted  in  taking  a  blow-pipe  herself  and  making 
small  objects  which  she  decorated  as  she  pleased,  she 
felt  a  lively  interest  in  her  father's  experiments,  she 
enjoyed  the  atmosphere  of  his  wisdom  though  it  was 
occasionally  disturbed  by  the  foolish  little  storms  of  his 
hot  temper.  And  until  now,  she  had  liked  to  be  often 
with  Zorzi. 

That  was  past,  of  course,  but  the  rest  remained,  and 
it  was  much  to  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  becoming  a 
Contarini,  and  living  on  the  Grand  Canal  with  a  man 
she  should  always  despise. 

It  was  clearly  not  the  idea  of  marriage  that  surprised 
or  repelled  her,  not  even  of  a  marriage  with  a  man  she 
did  not  know  and  had  seen  but  once.  Girls  were 
brought  up  to  regard  marriage  as  the  greatest  thing 
in  life,  as  the  natural  goal  to  which  all  their  girlhood 
should  tend,  and  at  the  same  time  they  were  taught 
from  childhood  that  it  was  all  to  be  arranged  for  them, 
arid  that  they  would  in  due  course  grow  fond  of  the 


132  MARIETTA 

man  their  parents  chose  for  them.  Until  Marietta  had 
begun  to  love  Zorzi,  she  had  accepted  all  these  things 
quite  naturally,  as  a  part  of  every  woman's  life,  and  it 
would  have  seemed  as  absurd,  and  perhaps  as  impossi- 
ble, to  rebel  against  them  as  to  repudiate  the  religion  in 
which  she  had  been  born.  Such  beliefs  turn  into 
prejudices,  and  assert  themselves  as  soon  as  whatever 
momentarily  retards  them  is  removed.  By  the  time 
the  gondola  drew  alongside  of  the  steps  of  the  Fos- 
carini  palace,  Marietta  was  convinced  that  there  was 
nothing  for  her  but  to  submit  to  her  fate. 

"  Then  I  am  to  be  married  in  two  months  ? "  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  interrogation,  and  regardless  of  the 
servant. 

Beroviero  bent  his  head  in  answer  and  smiled  kindly; 
for  after  all,  he  was  grateful  to  her  for  accepting  his 
decision  so  quietly.  But  Marietta  was  very  pale  after 
she  had  spoken,  for  the  audible  words  somehow  made 
it  all  seem  dreadfully  real,  and  out  of  the  shadows  of 
the  great  entrance  hall  that  opened  upon  the  canal  she 
could  fancy  Zorzi's  face  looking  at  her  sadly  and  re- 
proachfully. The  bargain  was  made,  and  the  woman 
he  loved  was  sold  for  life.  For  one  moment,  instinc- 
tive womanhood  felt  the  accursed  humiliation,  and  the 
flushing  blood  rose  in  the  girl's  cool  cheeks. 

She  would  have  blushed  deeper  had  she  guessed  who 
had  been  witnesses  of  her  first  meeting  with  Contarini, 
and  old  Beroviero's  temper  would  have  broken  out 
furiously  if  he  could  have  imagined  that  the  Greek 
pirate  who  had  somehow  miraculously  escaped  the 


A  MAID   OP  VENICE  138 

hangman  in  Naples  had  been  contemplating  with  satis- 
faction the  progress  of  the  marriage  negotiations,  sure 
that  he  himself  should  before  long  be  enjoying  the  bet- 
ter part  of  Marietta's  rich  dowry.  If  the  old  man 
could  have  had  vision  of  Jacopo's  life,  and  could  have 
suddenly  known  what  the  beautiful  woman  in  black 
was  to  the  patrician,  Contarini's  chance  of  going  home 
alive  that  day  would  have  been  small  indeed,  for  Bero- 
viero  might,  have  strangled  him  where  he  stood,  and 
perhaps  Aristarchi  would  have  discreetly  turned  his 
back  while  he  was  doing  it.  For  a  few  minutes  they 
had  all  been  very  near  together,  the  deceivers  and  the, 
deceived,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  they  should  ever 
all  be  so  near  again. 

Contarini  had  never  seen  the  Greek,  and  Arisa  was 
not  aware  that  he  was  in  the  church.  When  Beroviero 
and  Marietta  were  gone,  Jacopo  turned  his  back  on  the 
slave  for  a  moment  as  if  he  meant  to  walk  further  up 
the  church.  Aristarchi  watched  them  both,  for  in  spite 
of  all  he  did  not  quite  trust  the  Georgian  woman,  and 
he  had  never  seen  her  alone  with  Jacopo  when  she  was 
unaware  of  his  own  presence.  Yet  he  was  afraid  to 
go  nearer,  now,  lest  Arisa  should  accidentally  see  him 
and  betray  by  her  manner  that  she  knew  him. 

Jacopo  turned  suddenly,  when  he  judged  that  he 
could  leave  the  church  without  overtaking  Beroviero, 
and  he  walked  quietly  down  the  nave.  He  passed  close 
to  Arisa,  and  Aristarchi  guessed  that  their  eyes  met 
for  a  moment.  He  almost  fancied  that  Contarini's  lips 
moved,  and  he  was  sure  that  he  smiled.  But  that  was 


134  MARIETTA 

all,  and  Arisa  remained  on  her  knees,  not  even  turning 
her  head  a  little  as  her  lover  went  by. 

"Not  so  ugly  after  all,"  Contarini  had  said,  under 
his  breath,  and  the  careless  smile  went  with  the 
words. 

Arisa's  lip  curled  contemptuously  as  she  heard.  She 
had  drawn  back  her  veil,  her  face  was  raised,  as  if  she 
were  sending  up  a  prayer  to  heaven,  and  the  light  fell 
full  upon  the  magnificent  whiteness  of  her  throat,  that 
showed  in  strong  relief  against  the  black  velvet  and 
lace.  She  needed  no  other  answer  to  what  he  said, 
but  in  the  scorn  of  her  curving  mouth,  which  seemed 
all  meant  for  Marietta,  there  was  contempt  for  him, 
too,  that  would  have  cut  him  to  the  quick  of  his 
vanity. 

Aristarchi  walked  deliberately  by  the  pillar  to  the 
aisle,  as  he  passed,  and  listened  for  the  flapping  of  the 
heavy  leathern  curtain  at  the  door.  Then  he  stole 
nearer  to  the  place  where  Arisa  was  still  kneeling,  and 
came  noiselessly  behind  her  and  leaned  against  the  col- 
umn, and  watched  her,  not  caring  if  he  surprised  her 
now. 

But  she  did  not  turn  round.  Listening  intently, 
Aristarchi  heard  a  soft  quick  whispering,  and  he  saw 
that  it  was  punctuated  by  a  very  slight  occasional 
movement  of  her  head. 

He  had  not  believed  her  when  she  had  told  him  that 
she  said  her  prayers  at  night,  but  she  was  undoubtedly 
praying  now,  and  Aristarchi  watched  her  with  interest, 
as  he  might  have  looked  at  some  rare  foreign  animal 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  135 

whose  habits  he  did  not  understand.  She  was  very 
intently  bent  on  what  she  was  saying,  for  he  stayed 
there  some  time,  scarcely  breathing,  before  he  turned 
away  and  disappeared  in  the  shadows  with  noiseless 
steps. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ALL  through  the  long  Sunday  afternoon  Zorzi  sat  in 
the  laboratory  alone.  From  time  to  time,  he  tended 
the  fire,  which  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  down  lest 
the  quality  of  the  glass  should  be  injured,  or  at  least 
changed.  Then  he  went  back  to  the  master's  great 
chair,  and  allowed  himself  to  think  of  what  was  hap- 
pening in  the  house  opposite. 

In  those  days  there  was  no  formal  betrothal  before 
marriage,  at  which  the  intended  bride  and  bridegroom 
joined  hands  or  exchanged  the  rings  which  were  to  be 
again  exchanged  at  the  wedding.  When  a  marriage 
had  been  arranged,  the  parents  or  guardians  of  the 
young  couple  signed  the  contract  before  a  notary,  a 
strictly  commercial  and  legal  formality,  and  the  two 
families  then  announced  the  match  to  their  respective 
relatives  who  were  invited  for  the  purpose,  and  were 
hospitably  entertained.  The  announcement  was  final, 
and  to  break  off  a  marriage  after  it  had  been  announced 
was  a  deadly  offence  and  was  generally  an  irreparable 
injury  to  the  bride. 

In  Beroviero's  house  the  richest  carpets  were  taken 
from  the  storerooms  and  spread  upon  the  pavement 
and  the  stairs,  tapestries  of  great  worth  and  beauty 

136 


MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF   VENICE  137 

were  hung  upon  the  walls,  the  servants  were  arrayed 
in  their  high-day  liveries  and  spoke  in  whispers  when 
they  spoke  at  all,  the  silver  dishes  were  piled  with 
sweetmeats  and  early  fruits,  and  the  silver  plates  had 
been  not  only  scoured,  but  had  been  polished  with 
leather,  which  was  not  done  every  day.  In  all  the 
rooms  that  were  opened,  silken  curtains  had  been  hung 
before  the  windows,  in  place  of  those  used  at  other 
times.  In  a  word,  the  house  had  been  prepared  in  a 
few  hours  for  a  great  family  festivity,  and  when  Mari- 
etta got  out  of  the  gondola,  she  set  her  foot  upon  a 
thick  carpet  that  covered  the  steps  and  was  even  al- 
lowed to  hang  down  and  dip  itself  in  the  water  of  the 
canal  by  way  of  showing  what  little  value  was  set  upon 
it  by  the  rich  man. 

Zorzi  had  known  that  the  preparations  were  going 
forward,  and  he  knew  what  they  meant.  He  would 
rather  see  nothing  of  them,  and  when  the  guests  were 
gone,  old  Beroviero  would  come  over  and  give  him 
some  final  instructions  before  beginning  his  journey  ; 
until  then  he  could  be  alone  in  the  laboratory,  where 
only  the  low  roar  of  the  fire  in  the  furnace  broke  the 
silence. 

Marietta's  head  was  aching  and  she  felt  as  if  the 
hard,  hot  fingers  of  some  evil  demon  were  pressing  her 
eyeballs  down  into  their  sockets.  She  sat  in  an  inner 
chamber,  to  which  only  women  were  admitted.  There 
she  sat,  in  a  sort  of  state,  a  circlet  of  gold  set  upon  her 
loosened  hair,  her  dress  all  of  embroidered  white  silk, 
her  shoulders  covered  with  a  wide  mantle  of  green  and 


138  MARIETTA 

gold  brocade  that  fell  in  heavy  folds  to  the  floor.  Sne 
wore  many  jewels,  too,  such  as  she  would  not  have 
worn  in  public  before  her  marriage.  They  had  be- 
longed to  her  mother,  like  the  mantle,  and  were  now 
brought  out  for  the  first  time.  It  was  very  hot,  but 
the  windows  were  shut  lest  the  sound  of  the  good 
ladies'  voices  should  be  heard  without ;  for  the  news 
that  Marietta  was  to  be  married  had  suddenly  gone 
abroad  through  Murano,  and  all  the  idlers,  and  the 
men  from  the  furnaces,  where  no  work  was  done  on 
Sunday,  as  well  as  all  the  poor,  were  assembled  on  the 
footway  and  the  bridge,  and  in  the  narrow  alleys  round 
the  house.  They  all  pushed  and  jostled  each  other 
to  see  Beroviero's  friends  and  relations,  as  they  emerged 
from  beneath  the  black  4  felse '  of  their  gondolas  to 
enter  the  house.  In  the  hall  the  guests  divided,  and 
the  men  gathered  in  a  large  lower  chamber,  while  the 
women  went  upstairs  to  offer  their  congratulations  to 
Marietta,  with  many  set  compliments  upon  her  beauty, 
her  clothes  and  her  jewels,  and  even  with  occasional 
flattering  allusions  to  the  vast  dowry  her  husband  was 
to  receive  with  her. 

She  listened  wearily,  and  her  head  ached  more  and 
more,  so  that  she  longed  for  the  coolness  of  her  own 
room  and  for  Nella's  soothing  chatter,  to  which  she 
was  so  much  accustomed  that  she  missed  it  if  the  little 
brown  woman  chanced  to  be  silent. 

The  sun  went  down  and  wax  candles  were  brought, 
instead  of  the  tall  oil  lamps  that  were  used  on  ordinary 
days.  It  grew  hotter  and  hotter,  the  compliments  of 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  139 

the  ladies  seemed  more  and  more  dull  and  stale,  her 
mantle  was  heavy  and  even  the  gold  circlet  on  her 
hair  was  a  burden.  Worse  than  all,  she  knew  that 
every  minute  was  carrying  her  further  and  further 
into  the  dominion  of  the  irrevocable  whence  she  could 
never  return. 

She  had  looked  at  the  palaces  she  had  passed  in 
Venice  that  morning,  some  in  shadow,  some  in  sunlight, 
some  with  gay  faces  and  some  grave,  but  all  so  different 
from  the  big  old  house  in  Murano,  that  she  did  not 
wish  to  live  in  them  at  all.  It  would  have  been  much 
easier  to  submit  if  she  had  been  betrothed  to  a  foreigner, 
a  Roman,  or  a  Florentine.  She  had  been  told  that 
Romans  were  all  wicked  and  gloomy,  and  that  Floren- 
tines were  all  wicked  and  gay.  That  was  what  Nella 
had  heard.  But  in  a  sense  they  were  free,  for  they 
probably  did  what  was  good  in  their  own  eyes,  as 
wicked  people  often  do.  Life  in  Venice  was  to  be 
lived  by  rule,  and  everything  that  tasted  of  freedom 
was  repressed  by  law.  If  it  pleased  women  to  wear 
long  trains  the  Council  forbade  them  ;  if  they  took 
refuge  in  long  sleeves,  thrown  back  over  their  shoulders, 
a  law  was  passed  which  set  a  measure  and  a  pattern  for 
all  sleeves  that  might  ever  be  worn.  If  a  few  rich  men 
indulged  their  fancy  in  the  decoration  of  their  gondolas, 
now  that  riding  was  out  of  fashion,  the  Council  imme- 
diately determined  that  gondolas  should  be  black  and 
that  they  should  only  be  gilt  and  adorned  inside.  As 
for  freedom,  if  any  one  talked  of  it  he  was  immediately 
tortured  until  he  retracted  all  his  errors,  and  was  then 


140  MARIETTA 

promptly  beheaded  for  fear  that  he  should  fall  again 
into  the  same  mistake.  Nella  said  so,  and  told  hideous 
tales  of  the  things  that  had  been  done  to  innocent  men 
in  the  little  room  behind  the  Council  chamber  in  the 
Palace.  Besides,  if  one  talked  of  justice,  there  was 
Zorzi's  case  to  prove  that  there  was  no  justice  at  all  in 
Venetian  law.  Marietta  suddenly  wished  that  she 
were  wicked,  like  the  Romans  and  the  Florentines ; 
and  even  when  she  reflected  that  it  was  a  sin  to  wish 
that  one  were  bad,  she  was  not  properly  repentant, 
because  she  had  a  very  vague  notion  of  what  wicked- 
ness really  was.  Righteousness  seemed  just  now  to 
consist  in  being  smothered  in  heavy  clothes,  in  a  hor- 
ribly hot  room,  while  respectable  women  of  all  ages,  fat, 
thin,  fair,  red-haired,  dark,  ugly  and  handsome,  all 
chattered  at  her  and  overwhelmed  her  with  nauseous 
flattery. 

She  thought  of  that  morning  in  the  garden,  three 
days  ago,  when  something  she  did  not  understand  had 
been  so  near,  just  before  disappearing  for  ever.  Then 
her  throat  tightened  and  she  saw  indistinctly,  and  her 
lips  were  suddenly  dry.  After  that,  she  remembered 
little  of  what  happened  on  that  evening,  and  by  and  by 
she  was  alone  in  her  own  room  without  a  light,  stand- 
ing at  the  open  window  with  bare  feet  on  the  cold 
pavement,  and  the  night  breeze  stirred  her  hair  and 
brought  her  the  scent  of  the  rosemary  and  lavender, 
while  she  tried  to  listen  to  the  stars,  as  if  they  were 
speaking  to  her,  and  lost  herself  in  her  thoughts  for  a 
few  moments  before  going  to  sleep. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  141 

Zorzi  was  still  sitting  in  the  big  chair  against  the 
wall  when  he  heard  a  footstep  in  the  garden,  and  as  he 
rose  to  look  out  Beroviero  entered.  The  master  was 
'wrapped  in  a  long  cloak  that  covered  something  which 
he  was  carrying.  There  was  no  lamp  in  the  labora- 
tory, but  the  three  fierce  eyes  of  the  furnace  shed  a 
low  red  glare  in  different  directions.  Beroviero  had 
given  orders  that  the  night  boys  should  not  come 
until  he  sent  for  them. 

"I  thought  it  wiser  to  bring  this  over  at  night," 
he  said,  setting  a  small  iron  box  on  the  table. 

It  contained  the  secrets  of  Paolo  Godi,  which  were 
worth  a  great  fortune  in  those  times. 

"  Of  all  my  possessions,"  said  the  old  man,  laying 
his  hands  upon  the  casket,  "  these  are  the  most  valu- 
able. I  will  not  hide  them  alone,  as  I  might,  because 
if  any  harm  befell  me  they  would  be  lost,  and  might 
be  found  by  some  unworthy  person." 

"  Could  you  not  leave  them  with  some  one  else, 
sir  ?  "  asked  Zorzi. 

"No.  I  trust  no  one  else.  Let  us  hide  them  to- 
gether to-night,  for  to-morrow  I  must  leave  Venice. 
Take  up  one  of  the  large  flagstones  behind  the  anneal- 
ing oven,  and  dig  a  hole  underneath  it  in  the  ground. 
The  place  will  be  quite  dry,  from  the  heat  of  the 
oven." 

Zorzi  lit  a  lamp  with  a  splinter  of  wood  which  he 
thrust  into  the  '  bocca '  of  the  furnace ;  he  took  a  small 
crowbar  from  the  corner  and  set  to  work.  The  labo- 
ratory contained  all  sorts  of  builder's  tools,  used  when 


142  MARIETTA 

the  furnace  needed  repairing.  He  raised  one  of  the 
slabs  with  difficulty,  turned  it  over,  propped  it  with  a 
billet  of  beech  wood,  and  began  to  scoop  out  a  hole 
in  the  hard  earth,  using  a  mason's  trowel.  Beroviero 
watched  him,  holding  the  box  in  his  hands. 

"  The  lock  is  not  very  good,"  he  said,  "  but  I  thought 
the  box  might  keep  the  packet  from  dampness." 

"  Is  the  packet  properly  sealed  ?  "  asked  Zorzi,  look- 
ing up. 

"  You  shall  see,"  answered  the  master,  and  he  set 
down  the  box  beside  the  lamp,  on  the  broad  stone  at 
the  mouth  of  the  annealing  oven.  "  It  is  better  that 
you  should  see  for  yourself." 

He  unlocked  the  box  and  took  out  what  seemed  to 
be  a  small  book,  carefully  tied  up  in  a  sheet  of  parch- 
ment. The  ends  of  the  silk  cord  below  the  knot  were 
pinched  in  a  broad  red  seal.  Zorzi  examined  the  wax. 

"  You  sealed  it  with  a  glass  seal,"  he  observed.  "  It 
would  not  be  hard  to  make  another." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  so  easy  ? "  asked  Bero- 
viero, who  had  made  the  seal  himself  many  years  ago. 

Zorzi  held  the  impression  nearer  to  the  lamp  and. 
scrutinised  it  closely. 

"  No  one  will  have  a  chance  to  try,"  he  said,  with  a 
slight  gesture  of  indifference.  "It  might  not  be  so 
easy." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  a  moment,  as  if  hesitat- 
ing, and  then  put  the  packet  back  into  the  box  and 
locked  the  latter  with  the  key  that  hung  from  his 
neck  by  a  small  silver  chain. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  143 

"  I  trust  you,"  he  said,  and  he  gave  the  box  to  Zorzi, 
to  be  deposited  in  the  hole. 

Zorzi  stood  up,  and  taking  a  little  tow  from  the  sup- 
ply used  for  cleaning  the  blow-pipes,  he  dipped  it  into 
the  oil  of  the  lamp  and  proceeded  to  grease  the  box 
carefully  before  hiding  it. 

"  It  would  rust,"  he  explained. 

He  laid  the  box  in  the  hole  and  covered  it  with  earth 
before  placing  the  stone  over  it. 

"Be  careful  to  make  the  stone  lie  quite  flat,"  said 
Angelo,  bending  down  and  gathering  his  gown  off  the 
floor  in  a  bunch  at  his  knees.  "  If  it  does  not  lie  flats 
the  stone  will  move  when  the  boys  tread  on  it,  and  they 
may  think  of  taking  it  up." 

"  It  is  very  heavy,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  It 
was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  heave  it  up.  You  need 
not  be  afraid  of  the  boys." 

"It  is  not  a  very  safe  place,  I  fear,  after  all," 
returned  Beroviero  doubtfully.  "  Be  sure  to  leave  no 
marks  of  the  crowbar,  and  no  loose  earth  near  it." 

The  heavy  slab  slipped  into  its  bed  with  a  soft  thud. 
Zorzi  took  the  lamp  and  examined  the  edges.  One  of 
them  was  a  little  chipped  by  the  crowbar,  and  he 
rubbed  it  with  the  greasy  tow  and  scattered  dust  over 
it.  Then  he  got  a  cypress  broom  and  swept  the  earth 
carefully  away  into  a  heap.  Beroviero  himself  brought 
the  shovel  and  held  it  close  to  the  stones  while  Zorzi 
pushed  the  loose  earth  upon  it. 

"  Carry  it  out  and  scatter  it  in  the  garden,"  said  the 
old  man. 


144  MARIETTA 

He  walked  beside  Zorzi,  and  opened  the  garden  door 
for  him  to  go  out.  A  little  light  from  within  followed 
Zorzi's  figure,  and  he  walked  in  it  till  he  came  to  the 
flower-bed.  He  had  dug  the  hole  deep,  and  he  had  to 
make  three  trips  with  the  shovel  before  he  had  cleared 
all  the  earth  away.  When  he  went  in  the  last  time 
Beroviero  shut  the  door  after  him. 

"  Do  you  remember  all  I  have  told  you  ?  "  asked  the 
master.  "  On  this  table  are  the  rules  you  are  to  follow 
in  continuing  the  experiments.  Make  your  trials  every 
morning  at  the  same  hour  without  fail,  and  if  you  find 
that  the  boys  do  not  turn  the  sand-glass  regularly, 
frighten  them  by  telling  them  that  I  shall  know  it.  It 
is  very  important  that  we  should  keep  the  time." 

"  I  will  see  to  it,  sir.  I  shall  sleep  in  the  small  room 
at  the  back  while  you  are  away,  and  I  shall  tell  the 
boys  to  call  me  at  each  watch." 

"  I  fear  you  will  not  get  much  sleep,"  answered 
Beroviero.  "  But  it  will  be  better  as  you  say.  Now 
you  may  call  the  boys,  for  it  is  late.  Shall  you  sleep 
here  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  may  as  well  begin  at  once,"  said  Zorzi,  going  to 
the  door. 

He  went  out,  crossed  the  garden,  and  entered  the 
passage  leading  to  the  main  furnaces.  It  was  dark, 
and  he  called  out  when  he  had  gone  a  few  steps,  for  it 
was  here  that  the  three  boys  usually  waited. 

"  Ready,  sir  I  "  answered  a  small  voice  quite  near 
him. 

"  Very  well  —  come  and  tend  the  fire,"  he  said. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  145 

The  boy  who  had  spoken  roused  his  two  companions, 
who  had  apparently  gone  to  sleep  on  the  floor,  lying 
close  to  the  wall.  They  all  three  followed  Zorzi  out 
and  entered  the  laboratory  at  once.  The  light  of  the  oil 
lamp  fell  upon  their  pale  young  faces,  which  assumed 
a  humble  expression  when  they  saw  the  master  himself 
standing  by  the  table. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  sternly,  "  I  am  going  on  a  journey, 
and  while  I  am  away  Zorzi  is  your  master.  Tend  the 
fire  as  usual,  and  mind  the  sand-glass.  If  you  forget 
to  turn  it,  Zorzi  will  not  beat  you,  but  he  will  tell  me." 

"  And  you  are  to  wake  me  at  every  watch,  for  I  shall 
sleep  in  the  little  room,"  added  Zorzi,  wishing  that 
Beroviero  should  hear  the  order  given.  "If  you  do 
not  wake  me,  I  shall  know  that  the  sand-glass  has  run 
out." 

"  Yes,  sir  I  "  said  all  the  boys  submissively. 

Two  of  them  went  at  once  to  the  block  on  which 
the  billets  of  beech  wood  were  chopped  to  the  proper 
size,  and  the  third  brought  some  pieces  and  laid  them 
in  a  pile  on  the  floor  by  the  mouth  of  the  furnace. 

Beroviero  made  a  sign  and  Zorzi  followed  him  out 
into  the  garden. 

"You  know  that  my  son  Giovanni  will  live  in  my 
house  in  my  absence,"  he  said.  "  I  do  not  trust  him. 
He  is  not  an  artist,  and  he  is  greedy  for  processes  that 
will  bring  him  money.  Do  not  encourage  him  to  come 
here.  Good-bye,  Zorzi,  and  be  faithful.  I  sometimes 
wish  that  you  were  my  only  son  in  place  of  the  two  I 
have." 


146  MARIETTA 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  allowed  his  affec- 
tion for  Zorzi  to  express  itself  so  strongly,  for  he  was 
generally  a  very  cautious  person.  He  took  the  young 
man's  hand  and  held  it  a  moment,  pressing  it  kindly. 

"  It  was  not  I  who  made  the  law  against  strangers, 
and  it  was  not  meant  for  men  like  you,"  he  added. 

Zorzi  knew  how  much  this  meant  from  such  a 
master  and  he  would  have  found  words  for  thanks,  had 
he  been  able  ;  but  when  he  tried,  they  would  not  come. 

"  You  may  trust  me,"  was  all  he  could  say. 

Beroviero  left  him,  and  went  down  the  dark  corridor 
with  the  firm  step  of  a  man  who  knows  his  way  with- 
out light. 

In  the  morning,  when  he  left  the  house  to  begin  his 
journey,  Zorzi  stood  by  the  steps  with  the  servant  to 
steady  the  gondola  for  him.  His  horses  were  to  be 
in  waiting  in  Venice,  whence  he  was  to  go  over  to  the 
mainland.  He  nodded  to  the  young  man  carelessly, 
but  said  nothing,  and  no  one  would  have  guessed  how 
kindly  he  had  spoken  to  him  on  the  previous  night. 
Giovanni  Beroviero  took  ceremonious  leave  of  his 
father,  his  cap  in  his  hand,  bending  low,  a  lean  man, 
twenty  years  older  than  Marietta,  with  an  insignificant 
brow  and  clean-shaven,  pointed  jaw  and  greedy  lips. 
Marietta  stood  within  the  shadow  of  the  doorway, 
very  pale.  Nella  was  beside  her,  and  Giovanni's  wife, 
and  further  in,  at  a  respectful  distance,  the  serving- 
people,  for  the  master's  departure  was  an  event  of 
importance. 

The  gondola  pushed  off  when   Beroviero  had   dis- 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  147 

appeared  under  the  4felse'  with  a  final  wave  of  the 
hand.  Zorzi  stood  still,  looking  after  his  master,  and 
Marietta  came  forward  to  the  doorstep  and  pretended 
to  watch  the  gondola  also.  Zorzi  was  the  first  to 
turn,  and  their  eyes  met.  He  had  not  expected  to 
see  her  still  there,  and  he  started  a  little.  Giovanni 
looked  at  him  coldly. 

"You  had  better  go  to  your  work,"  he  said  in  a 
sour  tone.  "  I  suppose  my  father  has  told  you  what 
to  do." 

The  young  artist  flushed,  but  answered  quietly 
enough. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  work,"  he  said.  "  I  need  no 
urging." 

Before  he  put  on  his  cap,  he  bent  his  head  to 
Marietta  ;  then  he  passed  on  towards  the  bridge. 

"That  fellow  is  growing  insolent,"  said  Giovanni 
to  his  sister,  but  he  was  careful  that  Zorzi  should 
not  hear  the  words.  "  I  think  I  shall  advise  our 
father  to  turn  him  out." 

Marietta  looked  at  her  brother  with  something  like 
contempt. 

"Since  when  has  our  father  consulted  you,  or 
taken  your  advice  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  presume  he  takes  yours,"  retorted  Giovanni, 
regretting  that  he  could  not  instantly  find  a  sharper 
answer,  for  he  was  not  quick-witted  though  he  was 
suspicious. 

"  He  needs  neither  yours  nor  mine,"  said  Marietta, 
"  and  he  trusts  whom  he  pleases." 


148  MARIETTA 

"You  seem  inclined  to  defend  his  servants  when 
they  are  insolent,"  answered  Giovanni. 

"  For  that  matter,  Zorzi  is  quite  able  to  defend 
himself  ! "  She  turned  her  back  on  her  brother  and 
went  towards  the  stairs,  taking  Nella  with  her. 

Giovanni  glanced  at  her  with  annoyance  and 
walked  along  the  footway  in  the  direction  of  his 
own  glass-house,  glad  to  go  back  to  a  place  where 
he  was  absolute  despot.  But  he  had  been  really 
surprised  that  Marietta  should  boldly  take  the 
Dalmatian's  side  against  him,  and  his  narrow  brain 
brooded  upon  the  unexpected  circumstance.  Besides 
the  dislike  he  felt  for  the  young  artist,  his  small  pride 
resented  the  thought  that  his  sister,  who  was  to  marry 
a  Contarini,  should  condescend  to  the  defence  of  a 
servant. 

Zorzi  went  his  way  calmly  and  spent  the  day  in 
the  laboratory.  He  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  in  which 
such  speeches  as  Giovanni's  could  make  but  little 
impression  upon  him,  sensitive  though  he  naturally 
was.  Really  great  sorrows,  or  great  joys  or  great 
emotions,  make  smaller  ones  almost  impossible  for  the 
time.  Men  of  vast  ambition,  whose  deeds  are  already 
moving  the  world  and  making  history,  are  sometimes 
as  easily  annoyed  by  trifles  as  a  nervous  woman  ; 
but  he  who  knows  that  what  is  dearest  to  him  is 
slipping  from  his  hold,  or  has  just  been  taken,  is  half 
paralysed  in  his  sense  of  outward  things.  His  own 
mind  alone  has  power  to  give  him  a  momentary 
relief. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  149 

Herein  lies  one  of  the  strongest  problems  of 
human  nature.  We  say  with  assurance  that  the 
mind  rules  the  body,  we  feel  that  the  spirit  in  some 
way  overshadows  and  includes  the  mind.  Yet  if  this 
were  really  true  the  spirit  —  that  is,  the  will  —  should 
have  power  against  bodily  pain,  but  not  against  moral 
suffering  except  with  some  help  from  a  higher  source. 
But  it  is  otherwise.  If  the  will  of  ordinary  human 
beings  could  hypnotise  the  body  against  material 
sensation,  the  credit  due  to  those  brave  believers  in 
all  ages  who  have  suffered  cruel  torments  for  their 
faith  would  be  singularly  diminished.  If  the  mind 
could  dominate  matter  by  ordinary  concentration  of 
thought,  a  bad  toothache  should  have  no  effect  upon 
the  delicate  imagination  of  the  poet,  and  Napoleon 
would  not  have  lost  the  decisive  battle  of  his  life  by 
a  fit  of  indigestion,  as  has  been  asserted. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  never  yet  a  man  of 
genius,  or  even  of  great  talent,  who  was  not  aware 
that  the  most  acute  moral  anguish  can  be  momentarily 
forgotten,  as  if  it  did  not  exist  for  the  time,  by  con- 
centrating the  mind  upon  its  accustomed  and  favourite 
kind  of  work.  Johnson  wrote  Rasselas  to  pay  for  the 
funeral  of  his  yet  unburied  mother,  and  Johnson  was 
a  man  of  heart  if  ever  one  lived;  he  could  not  have 
written  the  book  if  he  had  had  a  headache.  Saints 
and  ascetics  without  end  and  of  many  persuasions 
have  resorted  to  bodily  pain  as  a  means  of  deadening 
the  imagination  and  exalting  the  will  or  spirit.  Some 
great  thinkers  have  been  invalids,  but  in  every  case 


150  MARIETTA 

their  good  work  has  been  done  when  they  were  tem- 
porarily free  from  pain.  Perhaps  the  truth  is  on  the 
side  of  those  mystics  who  say  that  although  the  mind 
is  of  a  higher  nature  than  matter,  it  is  so  closely 
involved  with  it  that  neither  can  get  away  from  the 
other,  and  that  both  together  tend  to  shut  out  the 
spirit  and  to  forget  its  existence,  which  is  a  perpetual 
reproach  to  them ;  and  any  ordinary  intellectual  effort 
being  produced  by  the  joint  activity  of  mind  and  the 
matter  through  which  the  mind  acts,  the  condition  of 
the  spirit  at  the  time  has  little  or  no  effect  upon  them, 
nor  upon  what  they  are  doing.  And  if  one  would  carry 
the  little  theory  further,  one  might  find  that  the  great- 
est works  of  genius  have  been  produced  when  the  effort 
of  mind  and  matter  has  taken  place  under  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  spirit,  so  that  all  three  were  momentarily 
involved  together.  But  such  thoughts  lead  far,  and 
it  may  be  that  they  profit  little.  The  best  which  a 
man  means  to  do  is  generally  better  than  the  best  he 
does,  and  it  is  perhaps  the  best  he  is  capable  of  doing. 
Be  these  things  as  they  may,  Zorzi  worked  hard  in 
the  laboratory,  minutely  carrying  out 'the  instructions 
he  had  received,  but  reasoning  upon  them  with  a  fresh- 
ness and  keenness  of  thought  of  which  his  master  was 
no  longer  capable.  When  he  had  made  the  trials  and 
had  added  the  new  ingredients  for  future  ones,  he 
began  to  think  out  methods  of  his  own  which  had 
suggested  themselves  to  him  of  late,  but  -vhich  he  had 
never  been  able  to  try.  But  though  he  had  the  fur- 
nace to  himself,  to  use  as  long  as  he  could  endure  the 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  151 

heat  of  the  advancing  summer,  he  was  face  to  face  with 
a  difficulty  that  seemed  insuperable. 

The  furnace  had  but  three  crucibles,  each  of  which 
contained  one  of  the  mixtures  by  means  of  which  he 
and  Beroviero  were  trying  to  produce  the  famous  red 
glass.  In  order  to  begin  to  make  glass  in  his  own 
way,  it  was  necessary  that  one  of  the  three  should  be 
emptied,  but  unless  he  disobeyed  his  orders  this  was 
out  of  the  question.  In  his  train  of  thought  and  long- 
ing to  try  what  he  felt  sure  must  succeed,  he  had  for- 
gotten the  obstacle.  The  check  brought  him  back  to 
himself,  and  he  walked  disconsolately  up  and  down  the 
long  room  by  the  side  of  the  furnace. 

Everything  was  against  him,  said  the  melancholy 
little  demon  that  torments  genius  on  dark  days.  It 
was  not  enough  that  he  should  be  forced  by  every  con- 
sideration of  honour  and  wisdom  to  hide  his  love  for 
his  master's  daughter ;  when  he  took  refuge  in  his  art 
and  tried  to  throw  his  whole  life  into  it,  he  was  stopped 
at  the  outset  by  the  most  impassable  barriers  of  impos- 
sibility. The  furious  desire  to  create,  which  is  the 
strength  as  well  as  the  essence  of  genius,  surged  up 
and  dashed  itself  to  futile  spray  upon  the  face  of  the 
solid  rock. 

He  stood  still  before  the  hanging  shelves  on  which 
he  had  placed  the  objects  he  had  occasionally  made, 
and  which  his  master  allowed  him  to  keep  there  — 
light,  air-thin  vessels  of  graceful  shapes  :  an  ampulla  of 
exquisite  outline  with  a  long  curved  spout  that  bent 
upwards  and  then  outwards  and  over  like  the  stalk  of 


152  MARIETTA 

a  lily  of  the  valley ;  a  large  drinking-glass  set  on  a 
stem  so  slender  that  one  would  doubt  its  strength  to 
carry  the  weight  of  a  full  measure,  yet  so  strong  that 
the  cup  might  have  been  filled  with  lead  without 
breaking  it ;  a  broad  dish  that  was  nothing  but  a 
shadow  against  the  light,  but  in  the  shadow  was  a  fair 
design  of  flowers,  drawn  free  with  a  diamond  point ; 
there  were  a  dozen  of  such  things  on  the  shelves,  not 
the  best  that  Zorzi  had  made,  for  those  Beroviero  took 
to  his  own  house  and  used  on  great  occasions,  while 
these  were  the  results  of  experiments  unheard  of  in 
those  days,  and  which  not  long  afterwards  made  a 
school. 

In  his  present  frame  of  mind  Zorzi  felt  a  foolish 
impulse  to  take  them  down  and  smash  them  one  by  one 
in  the  big  jar  into  which  the  failures  were  thrown,  to 
be  melted  again  in  the  main  furnace,  for  in  a  glass- 
house nothing  is  thrown  away.  He  knew  it  was  fool- 
ish, and  he  held  his  hands  behind  him  as  he  looked  at 
the  things,  wishing  that  he  had  never  made  them,  that 
he  had  never  learned  the  art  he  was  forbidden  by 
law  to  practise,  that  he  had  never  left  Dalmatia  as  a 
little  boy  long  ago,  that  he  had  never  been  born. 

The  door  opened  suddenly  and  Giovanni  entered. 
Zorzi  turned  and  looked  at  him  in  silence.  He  was 
surprised,  but  he  supposed  that  the  master's  son  had  a 
right  to  come  if  he  chose,  though  he  never  showed  him- 
self in  the  glass-house  when  his  father  was  in  Murano. 

"  Are  you  alone  here  ? "  asked  Giovanni,  looking 
about  him.  "  Do  none  of  the  workmen  come  here  ?  " 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  153 

"The  master  has  left  me  in  charge  of  his  work," 
answered  Zorzi.  "I  need  no  help." 

Giovanni  seated  himself  in  his  father's  chair  and 
looked  at  the  table  before  the  window. 

"It  is  not  very  hard  work,  I  fancy,"  he  observed, 
crossing  one  leg  over  the  other  and  pulling  up  his 
black  hose  to  make  it  fit  his  lean  calf  better. 

Zorzi  suspected  at  once  that  he  had  come  in  search 
of  information,  and  paused  before  answering. 

"  The  work  needs  careful  attention,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Most  glass-work  does,"  observed  Giovanni,  with  a 
harsh  little  laugh.  "  Are  you  very  attentive,  then  ? 
Do  you  remember  to  do  all  that  my  father  told  you  ?  " 

"  The  master  only  left  this  morning.  So  far,  I  have 
obeyed  his  orders." 

"  I  do  not  understand  how  a  man  who  is  not  a  glass- 
blower  can  know  enough  to  be  left  alone  in  charge  of  a 
furnace,"  said  Giovanni,  looking  at  Zorzi's  profile. 

This  time  Zorzi  was  silent.  He  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  tell  how  much  he  knew. 

"  I  suppose  my  father  knows  what  he  is  about,"  con- 
tinued Giovanni,  in  a  tone  of  disapproval. 

Zorzi  thought  so  too,  and  no  reply  seemed  necessary. 
He  stood  still,  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  wish- 
ing  that  his  visitor  would  go  away.  But  Giovanni 
had  no  such  intention. 

"  What  are  you  making  ?  "  he  asked  presently. 

"  A  certain  kind  of  glass,"  Zorzi  answered. 

"  A  new  colour  ?  " 

"  A  certain  colour.     That  is  all  I  can  tell  you.w 


154  MARIETTA 

"  You  can  tell  me  what  colour  it  is,"  said  Giovanni. 
"  Why  are  you  so  secret  ?  Even  if  my  father  had  or- 
dered you  to  be  silent  with  me  about  his  work,  which  I 
do  not  believe,  you  would  not  be  betraying  anything 
by  telling  me  that.  What  colour  is  he  trying  to 
make  ?  " 

"  I  am  to  say  nothing  about  it,  not  even  to  you.  I 
obey  my  orders." 

Giovanni  was  a  glass-maker  himself.  He  rose  with 
an  air  of  annoyance  and  crossed  the  laboratory  to  the 
jar  in  which  the  broken  glass  was  kept,  took  out  a 
piece  and  held  it  up  against  the  light.  Zorzi  had 
made  a  movement  as  if  to  hinder  him,  but  he  realised 
at  once  that  he  could  not  lay  hands  on  his  master's  son. 
Giovanni  laughed  contemptuously  and  threw  the  frag- 
ment back  into  the  jar. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  I  can  do  better  than  that  myself  !  " 
he  said,  and  he  sat  down  again  in  the  big  chair. 

His  eyes  fell  on  the  shelves  upon  which  Zorzi's  speci- 
mens of  work  were  arranged.  He  looked  at  them 
with  interest,  at  once  understanding  their  commercial 
value. 

"My  father  can  make  good  things  when  he  is  not 
wasting  time  over  discoveries,"  he  remarked,  and  rising 
again  he  went  nearer  and  began  to  examine  the  little 
objects. 

Zorzi  said  nothing,  and  after  looking  at  them  a  long 
time  Giovanni  turned  away  and  stood  before  the  fur-, 
nace.  The  copper  ladle  with  which  the  specimens 
were  taken  from  the  pots  lay  on  the  brick  ledge  near 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  155 

one  of  the  'boccas.'  Giovanni  took  it,  looked  round 
to  see  where  the  iron  plate  for  testing  was  placed,  and 
thrust  the  ladle  into  the  aperture,  holding  it  lightly 
lest  the  heat  should  hurt  his  hand. 

"  You  shall  not  do  that  1 "  cried  Zorzi,  who  was 
already  beside  him. 

Before  Giovanni  knew  what  was  happening  Zorzi 
had  struck  the  ladle  from  his  hand,  and  it  disappeared 
through  the  '  bocca '  into  the  white-hot  glass  within, 


CHAPTER  IX 

WITH  an  oath  Giovanni  raised  his  hand  to  strike 
Zorzi  in  the  face,  but  the  quick  Dalmatian  snatched 
up  his  heavy  blow-pipe  in  both  hands  and  stood  in  an 
attitude  of  defence. 

"  If  you  try  to  strike  me,  I  shall  defend  myself,"  he 
said  quietly. 

Giovanni's  sour  face  turned  grey  with  fright,  and 
then  as  his  impotent  anger  rose,  the  grey  took  an 
almost  greenish  hue  that  was  bad  to  see.  He  smiled 
in  a  sickly  fashion.  Zorzi  set  the  blow-pipe  upright 
against  the  furnace  and  watched  him,  for  he  saw  that 
the  man  was  afraid  of  him  and  might  act  treacherously. 

"  You  need  not  be  so  violent,"  said  Giovanni,  and 
his  voice  trembled  a  little,  as  he  recovered  himself. 
"  After  all,  my  father  would  not  have  made  any  objec- 
tion to  my  trying  the  glass.  If  I  had,  I  could  not 
have  guessed  how  it  was  made." 

Zorzi  did  not  answer,  for  he  had  discovered  that 
silence  was  his  best  weapon.  Giovanni  continued,  in 
the  peevish  tone  of  a  man  who  has  been  badly  fright- 
ened and  is  ashamed  of  it. 

"It  only  shows  how  ignorant  you  are  of  glass- 
making,  if  you  suppose  that  my  father  would  care." 
As  he  still  got  no  reply  beyond  a  shrug  of  the  shoul- 

166 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID  OF   VENICE  157 

ders,  he  changed  the  subject.  "  Did  you  see  niy  father 
make  any  of  those  things  ?  "  he  asked,  pointing  to  the 
shelves. 

"No,"  answered  ZorzL 

"  But  he  made  them  all  here,  did  he  not  ?  "  insisted 
Giovanni.  "  And  you  are  always  with  him." 

"  He  did  not  make  any  of  them." 

Giovanni  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment.  In  his 
estimation  there  was  no  man  living,  except  his  father, 
who  could  have  done  such  work.  Zorzi  smiled,  for  he 
knew  what  the  other's  astonishment  meant. 

"I  made  them  all,"  he  said,  unable  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  take  the  credit  that  was  justly  his. 

"  You  made  those  things  ? "  repeated  Giovanni  in- 
credulously. 

But  Zorzi  was  not  in  the  least  offended  by  his  dis- 
belief. The  more  sceptical  Giovanni  was,  the  greater 
the  honour  in  having  produced  anything  so  rarely 
beautiful. 

"  I  made  those,  and  many  others  which  the  master 
keeps  in  his  house,"  he  said. 

Giovanni  would  have  liked  to  give  him  the  lie,  but 
he  dared  not  just  then. 

"If  you  made  them,  you  could  make  something  of 
the  kind  again,"  he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  see  that. 
Take  your  blow-pipe  and  try.  Then  I  shall  believe 
you." 

"  There  is  no  white  glass  in  the  furnace,"  answered 
Zorzi.  "  If  there  were,  I  would  show  you  what  I 
can  do." 


158  MARIETTA 

Giovanni  laughed  sourly. 

"I  thought  you  would  find  some  good  excuse,"  he 
said. 

"  The  master  saw  me  do  the  work,"  answered  Zorzi 
unconcernedly.  "Ask  him  about  it  when  he  comes 
back." 

"  There  are  other  furnaces  in  the  glass-house,"  sug- 
gested Giovanni.  "  Why  not  bring  your  blow-pipe 
with  you  and  show  the  workmen  as  well  as  me  what 
you  can  do  ?  " 

Zorzi  hesitated.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
this  might  be  a  decisive  moment  in  his  life,  in  which 
the  future  would  depend  on  the  decision  he  made.  In 
all  the  years  since  he  had  been  with  Beroviero  he  had 
never  worked  at  one  of  the  great  furnaces  among  the 
other  men. 

"  I  daresay  your  sense  of  responsibility  is  so  great 
that  you  do  not  like  to  leave  the  laboratory,  even  for 
half  an  hour,"  said  Giovanni  scornfully.  "  But  you 
have  to  go  home  at  night." 

"  I  sleep  here,"  answered  Zorzi. 

"Indeed?"  Giovanni  was  surprised.  "I  see  that 
your  objections  are  insuperable,"  he  added  with  a 
laugh. 

Zorzi  was  in  one  of  those  moods  in  which  a  man  feels 
that  he  has  nothing  to  lose.  There  might,  however,  be 
something  to  gain  by  exhibiting  his  skill  before  Gio- 
vanni and  the  men.  His  reputation  as  a  glass-maker 
would  be  made  in  half  an  hour. 

"  Since  you  do  not  believe  me,  come,"  he  said  at  last. 
"You  shall  see  for  yourself." 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  159 

He  took  his  blow-pipe  and  thrust  it  through  one  of 
the  '  boccas '  to  melt  off  the  little  red  glass  that  adhered 
to  it.  Then  he  cooled  it  in  water,  and  carefully  re- 
moved the  small  particles  that  stuck  to  the  iron  here 
and  there  like  spots  of  glazing. 

"  I  am  ready,"  he  said,  when  he  had  finished. 

Giovanni  rose  and  led  the  way,  without  a  word. 
Zorzi  followed  him,  shut  the  door,  turned  the  key 
twice  and  thrust  it  into  the  bosom  of  his  doublet.  Gio- 
vanni turned  and  watched  him. 

"  You  are  really  very  cautious,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
always  lock  the  door  when  you  go  out  ?  " 

"Always,"  answered  Zorzi,  shouldering  his  blow« 
pipe. 

They  crossed  the  little  garden  and  entered  the  pas- 
sage that  led  to  the  main  furnace  rooms.  In  the  first 
they  entered,  eight  or  ten  men  and  youths,  masters  and 
apprentices,  were  at  work.  The  place  was  higher  and 
far  more  spacious  than  the  laboratory,  the  furnace  was 
broader  and  taller  and  had  four  mouths  instead  of 
three.  The  sunlight  streamed  through  a  window  high 
above  the  floor  and  fell  upon  the  arched  back  of  the 
annealing  oven,  the  window  being  so  placed  that  the 
sun  could  never  shine  upon  the  working  end  and 
dazzle  the  workmen. 

When  Giovanni  and  Zorzi  entered,  the  men  were 
working  in  silence.  The  low  and  steady  roar  of  the 
flames  was  varied  by  the  occasional  sharp  click  of  iron 
or  the  soft  sound  of  hot  glass  rolling  on  the  marver,  or 
by  the  hiss  of  a  metal  instrument  plunged  into  water 


160  MARIETTA 

to  cool  it.  Every  man  had  an  apprentice  to  help  him, 
and  two  boys  tended  the  fire.  The  foreman  sat  at  a 
table,  busy  with  an  account,  a  small  man,  even  paler 
than  the  others  and  dressed  in  shabby  brown  hose  and 
a  loose  brown  coat.  The  workmen  wore  only  hose  and 
shirts. 

Without  desisting  from  their  occupations  they  cast 
surprised  glances  at  Giovanni  and  his  companion, 
whom  they  all  hated  as  a  favoured  person.  One  of 
them  was  finishing  a  drinking-glass,  rolling  the  pontil 
on  the  arms  of  the  working-stool ;  another,  a  beetle- 
browed  fellow,  swung  his  long  blow-pipe  with  its  lump 
of  glowing  glass  in  a  full  circle,  high  in  air  and  almost 
to  touch  the  ground ;  another  was  at  a  '  bocca '  in  the 
low  glare ;  all  were  busy,  and  the  air  was  very  hot  and 
close.  The  men  looked  grim  and  ill-tempered. 

Giovanni  explained  the  object  of  his  coming  in  a 
way  intinded  to  conciliate  them  to  himself  at  Zorzi's 
expense.  Their  presence  gave  him  courage. 

"  This  is  Zorzi,  the  man  without  a  name,"  he  said, 
"who  is  come  from  Dalmatia  to  give  us  a  lesson  in 
glass-blowing." 

One  of  the  men  laughed,  and  the  apprentices  tit- 
tered. The  others  looked  as  if  they  did  not  under- 
stand. Zorzi  had  known  well  enough  what  humour  he 
should  find  among  them,  but  he  would  not  let  the 
taunt  go  unanswered. 

"  Sirs,"  he  said,  for  they  all  claimed  the  nobility  of 
the  glass-blowers'  caste,  "  I  come  not  to  teach  you,  but 
to  prove  to  the  master's  son  that  I  can  make  some 
trifle  in  the  manner  of  your  art." 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  161 

No  one  spoke.  The  workmen  in  the  elder  Bero- 
viero's  house  knew  well  enough  that  Zorzi  was  a  better 
artist  than  they,  and  they  had  no  mind  to  let  him 
outdo  them  at  their  own  furnace. 

"  Will  any  one  of  you  gentlemen  allow  me  to  use 
his  place?"  asked  Zorzi  civilly. 

Not  a  man  answered.  In  the  sullen  silence  the  busy 
hands  moved  with  quick  skill,  the  furnace  roared,  the 
glowing  glass  grew  in  ever-changing  shapes. 

"  One  of  you  must  give  Zorzi  his  place,"  said  Gio- 
vanni, in  a  tone  of  authority. 

The  little  foreman  turned  quite  round  in  his  chair 
and  looked  on.  There  was  no  reply.  The  pale  men 
went  on  with  their  work  as  if  Giovanni  were  not  there, 
and  Zorzi  leaned  calmly  on  his  blow-pipe.  Giovanni 
moved  a  step  forward  and  spoke  directly  to  one  of 
the  men  who  had  just  dropped  a  finished  glass  into  the 
bed  of  soft  wood  ashes,  to  be  taken  to  the  annealing 
oven. 

"  Stop  working  for  a  while,"  he  said.  "  Let  Zorzi 
have  your  place." 

"  The  foreman  gives  orders  here,  not  you,"  answered 
the  man  coolly,  and  he  prepared  to  begin  another 
piece. 

Giovanni  was  very  angry,  but  there  were  too  many 
of  the  workmen,  and  he  did  not  say  what  rose  to  his 
lips,  but  crossed  over  to  the  foreman.  Zorzi  kept  his 
place,  waiting  to  see  what  might  happen. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  order  one  of  the  men  to 
give  up  his  place  ?  "  Giovanni  asked. 
M 


162  MARIETTA 

The  old  foreman  smiled  at  this  humble  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  authority,  but  he  argued  the  point  before 
acceding. 

"  The  men  know  well  enough  what  Zorzi  can  do,"  he 
answered  in  a  low  voice.  "They  dislike  him,  because 
he  is  not  one  of  us.  I  advise  you  to  take  him  to  your 
own  glass-house,  sir,  if  you  wish  to  see  him  work.  You 
will  only  make  trouble  here." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  trouble,  I  tell  you,"  replied 
Giovanni.  "  Please  do  what  I  ask." 

"Very  well.  I  will,  but  I  take  no  responsibility 
before  the  master  if  there  is  a  disturbance.  The  men 
are  in  a  bad  humour  and  the  weather  is  hot." 

"  I  will  be  responsible  to  my  father,"  said  Giovanni. 

"Very  well,"  repeated  the  old  man.  "You  are  a 
glass-maker  yourself,  like  the  rest  of  us.  You  know 
how  we  look  upon  foreigners  who  steal  their  knowledge 
of  our  art." 

"  I  wish  to  make  sure  that  he  has  really  stolen  some- 
thing of  it." 

The  foreman  laughed  outright. 

"  You  will  be  convinced  soon  enough ! "  he  said. 
"  Give  your  place  to  the  foreigner,  Piero,"  he  added, 
speaking  to  the  man  who  had  refused  to  move  at  Gio- 
vanni's bidding. 

Piero  at  once  chilled  the  fresh  lump  of  glass  he  had 
begun  to  fashion  and  smashed  it  off  the  tube  into  the 
refuse  jar.  Without  a  word  Zorzi  took  his  place. 
While  he  warmed  the  end  of  his  blow-pipe  at  the  '  bocca ' 
he  looked  to  right  and  left  to  see  where  the  working- 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  163 

stool  and  marver  were  placed,  and  to  be  sure  that  the 
few  tools  he  needed  were  at  hand,  the  pontil,  the  '  pre- 
cello,'  —  that  is,  the  small  elastic  tongs  for  modelling 
—  and  the  shears.  Piero's  apprentice  had  retired  to  a 
distance,  as  he  had  received  no  special  orders,  and  the 
workmen  hoped  that  Zorzi  would  find  himself  in  diffi- 
culty at  the  moment  when  he  would  turn  in  the  expec- 
tation of  finding  the  assistant  at  his  elbow.  But  Zorzi 
was  used  to  helping  himself.  He  pushed  his  blow-pipe 
into  the  melted  glass  and  drew  it  out,  let  it  cool  a 
moment  and  then  thrust  it  in  again  to  take  up  more  of 
the  stuff. 

The  men  went  on  with  their  work,  seeming  to  pay 
no  attention  to  him,  and  Piero  turned  his  back  and 
talked  to  the  foreman  in  low  tones.  Only  Giovanni 
watched,  standing  far  enough  back  to  be  out  of  reach 
of  the  long  blow-pipe  if  Zorzi  should  unexpectedly 
swing  it  to  its  full  length.  Zorzi  was  confident  and 
unconcerned,  though  he  was  fully  aware  that  the  men 
were  watching  every  movement  he  made,  while  pretend- 
ing not  to  see.  He  knew  also  that  owing  to  his  being 
partly  self-taught  he  did  certain  things  in  ways  of  his 
own.  They  should  see  that  his  ways  were  as  good  as 
theirs,  and  what  was  more,  that  he  needed  no  help, 
while  none  of  them  could  do  anything  without  an 
apprentice. 

The  glass  grew  and  swelled,  lengthened  and  con- 
tracted with  his  breath  and  under  his  touch,  and  the 
men,  furtively  watching  him,  were  amazed  to  see  how 
much  he  could  do  while  the  piece  was  still  on  the  blow- 


164  MARIETTA 

pipe.  But  when  he  could  do  no  more  they  thought 
that  he  would  have  trouble.  He  did  not  even  turn  his 
head  to  see  whether  any  one  was  near  to  help  him.  At 
the  exact  moment  when  the  work  was  cool  enough  to 
stand  he  attached  the  pontil  with  its  drop  of  liquid 
glass  to  the  lower  end,  as  he  had  done  many  a  time  in 
the  laboratory,  and  before  those  who  looked  on  could 
fully  understand  how  he  had  done  it  without  assistance, 
the  long  and  heavy  blow-pipe  lay  on  the  floor  and  Zorzi 
held  his  piece  on  the  lighter  pontil,  heating  it  again  at 
the  fire. 

The  men  did  not  stop  working,  but  they  glanced  at 
each  other  and  nodded,  when  Zorzi  could  not  see  them. 
Giovanni  uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  surprise.  The 
foreman  alone  now  watched  Zorzi  with  genuine  admi- 
ration ;  there  was  no  mistaking  the  jealous  attitude  of 
the  others.  It  was  not  the  mean  envy  of  the  inferior 
artist,  either,  for  they  were  men  who,  in  their  way, 
loved  art  as  Beroviero  himself  did,  and  if  Zorzi  had 
been  a  new  companion  recently  promoted  from  the 
state  of  apprenticeship  in  ths  guild,  they  would  have 
looked  on  in  wonder  and  delight,  even  if,  at  the  very 
beginning,  he  outdid  them  all.  What  they  felt  was 
quite  different.  It  was  the  deep,  fierce  hatred  of  the 
mediaeval  guildsman  for  the  stranger  who  had  stolen 
knowledge  without  apprenticeship  and  without  citi- 
zenship, and  it  was  made  more  intense  because  the 
glass-blowers  were  the  only  guild  that  excluded  every 
foreign-born  man,  without  any  exception.  It  was  a 
shame  to  'them  to  be  outdone  by  one  who  had  not 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  165 

their  blood,  nor  their  teaching,  nor  their  high  acknowl- 
edged rights. 

They  were  peaceable  men  in  their  way,  not  given  to 
quarrelling,  nor  vicious  ;  yet,  excepting  the  mild  old 
foreman,  there  was  not  one  of  them  who  would  not 
gladly  have  brought  his  iron  blow-pipe  down  on  Zorzi's 
head  with  a  two-handed  swing,  to  strike  the  life  out  of 
the  intruder. 

Zorzi's  deft  hands  made  the  large  piece  he  was  form- 
ing spin  on  itself  and  take  new  shape  at  every  turn, 
until  it  had  the  perfect  curve  of  those  slim-necked 
Eastern  vessels  for  pouring  water  upon  the  hands, 
which  have  not  even  now  quite  degenerated  from  their 
early  grace  of  form.  While  it  was  still  very  hot,  he 
took  a  sharp  pointed  knife  from  his  belt  and  with  a 
turn  of  his  hand  cut  a  small  round  hole,  low  down  on 
one  side.  The  mouth  was  widened  and  then  turned  in 
and  out  like  the  leaf  of  a  carnation.  He  left  the  cool- 
ing piece  on  the  pontil,  lying  across  -the  arms  of  the 
stool,  and  took  his  blow-pipe  again. 

"  Has  the  fellow  not  finished  his  tricks  yet  ?  "  asked 
Piero  discontentedly. 

It  would  have  given  him  pleasure  to  smash  the  beau- 
tiful thing  to  atoms  where  it  lay,  almost  within  his 
reach.  Zorzi  began  to  make  the  spout,  for  it  was  a 
large  ampulla  that  he  was  fashioning.  He  drew  the 
glass  out,  widened  it,  narrowed  it,  cut  it,  bent  it  and 
finished  off  the  nozzle  before  he  touched  it  with  wet 
iron  and  made  it  drop  into  the  ashes.  A  moment 
later  he  had  heated  the  thick  end  of  it  again  and  was 


166  MARIETTA 

welding  it  over  the  hole  he  had  made  in  the  body  of 
the  vessel. 

"  The  man  has  three  hands  1  "  exclaimed  the  fore- 
man. 

"  And  two  of  them  are  for  stealing,"  added  Piero. 

"  Or  all  three,"  put  in  the  beetle-browed  man  who 
was  working  next  to  Zorzi. 

Zorzi  looked  at  him  coldly  a  moment,  but  said  noth- 
ing. They  did  not  mean  that  he  was  a  thief,  except 
in  the  sense  that  he  had  stolen  his  knowledge  of  their 
art.  He  went  on  to  make  the  handle  of  the  ampulla, 
an  easy  matter  compared  with  making  the  spout.  But 
the  highest  part  of  glass-blowing  lies  in  shaping  grace- 
ful curves,  and  it  is  often  in  the  smallest  differences 
of  measurement  that  the  pieces  made  by  Beroviero  and 
Zorzi  —  preserved  intact  to  this  day  —  differ  from 
similar  things  made  by  lesser  artists.  Yet  in  those 
little  variations  lies  all  the  great  secret  that  divides 
grace  from  awkwardness.  Zorzi  now  had  the  whole 
vessel,  with  its  spout  and  handle,  on  the  pontil.  It 
was  finished,  but  he  could  still  ornament  it.  His  own 
instinct  was  to  let  it  alone,  leaving  its  perfect  shape 
and  airy  lightness  to  be  its  only  beauty,  and  he  turned 
it  thoughtfully  as  he  looked  at  it,  hesitating  whether 
he  should  detach  it  from  the  iron,  or  do  more. 

44  If  you  have  finished  your  nonsense,  let  me  come 
back  to  my  work,"  said  Piero  behind  him. 

Zorzi  did  not  turn  to  answer,  for  he  had  decided  to 
add  some  delicate  ornaments,  merely  to  show  Giovanni 
that  he  was  a  full  master  of  the  art.  The  dark-browed 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  167 

man  had  just  collected  a  heavy  lump  of  glass  on  the 
end  of  his  blow-pipe,  and  was  blowing  into  it  before 
giving  it  the  first  swing  that  would  lengthen  it  out. 
He  and  Piero  exchanged  glances,  unnoticed  by  Zorzi, 
who  had  become  almost  unconscious  of  their  hostile 
presence.  He  began  to  take  little  drops  of  glass  from 
the  furnace  on  the  end  of  a  thin  iron,  and  he  drew  them 
out  into  thick  threads  and  heated  them  again  and  laid 
them  on  the  body  of  the  ampulla,  twisting  and  turning 
each  bit  till  he  had  no  more,  and  forming  a  regular 
raised  design  on  the  surface.  His  neighbour  seemed 
to  get  no  further  with  what  he  was  doing,  though  he 
busily  heated  and  reheated  his  lump  of  glass  and  again 
and  again  swung  his  blow-pipe  round  his  head,  and 
backward  and  forward.  The  foreman  was  too  much 
interested  in  Zorzi  to  notice  what  the  others  were 
doing. 

Zorzi  was  putting  the  last  touches  to  his  work.  In 
a  moment  it  would  be  finished  and  ready  to  go  to  the 
annealing  oven,  though  he  was  even  then  reflecting 
that  the  workmen  would  certainly  break  it  up  as  soon 
as  the  foreman  turned  his  back.  The  man  next  to  him 
swung  his  blow-pipe  again,  loaded  with  red-hot  glass. 

It  slipped  from  his  hand,  and  the  hot  mass,  with  the 
full  weight  of  the  heavy  iron  behind  it,  landed  on 
>Zorzi's  right  foot,  three  paces  away,  with  frightful  force. 
He  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  surprise  and  pain.  The  „ 
lovely  vessel  he  had  made  flew  from  his  hands  and 
broke  into  a  thousand  tiny  fragments.  In  excruciating 
agony  he  lifted  the  injured  foot  from  the  ground  and 


168  MARIETTA 

stood  upon  the  other.  Not  a  hand  was  stretched  out 
to  help  him,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  growing  dizzy. 
He  made  a  frantic  effort  to  hop  on  one  leg  towards 
the  furnace,  so  as  to  lean  against  the  brickwork.  Piero 
laughed. 

"  He  is  a  dancer  1  "  he  cried.    "  He  is  a  '  ballarino'l  " 

The  others  all  laughed,  too,  and  the  name  remained 
his  as  long  as  he  lived  —  he  was  Zorzi  Ballarin. 

The  old  foreman  came  to  help  him,  seeing  that  he  was 
really  injured,  for  no  one  had  quite  realised  it  at  first. 
Savagely  as  they  hated  him,  the  workmen  would  not 
have  tortured  him,  though  they  might  have  killed  him 
outright  if  they  had  dared.  Excepting  Piero  and  the 
man  who  had  hurt  him,  the  workmen  all  went  on  with 
their  work. 

He  was  ghastly  pale,  and  great  drops  of  sweat  rolled 
down  his  forehead  as  he  reached  the  foreman's  chair 
and  sat  down  :  but  after  the  first  cry  he  had  uttered, 
he  made  no  sound.  The  foreman  could  hear  how  his 
teeth  ground  upon  each  other  as  he  mastered  the  fright- 
ful suffering.  Giovanni  came,  and  stood  looking  at  the 
helpless  foot,  smashed  by  the  weight  that  had  fallen 
upon  it  and  burned  to  the  bone  in  an  instant  by  the 
molten  glass. 

"  I  cannot  walk,"  he  said  at  last  to  the  foreman. 
"  Will  you  help  me  ?  " 

His  voice  was  steady  but  weak.  The  foreman  and 
Giovanni  helped  him  to  stand  on  his  left  foot,  and  put- 
ting his  arms  round  their  necks  he  swung  himself  along 
as  he  could.  The  dark  man  had  picked  up  his  blow- 
pipe and  was  at  work  again. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  169 

"  You  will  pay  for  that  when  the  master  comes  back," 
Piero  said  to  him  as  Zorzi  passed.  "  You  will  starve  if 
you  are  not  careful." 

Zorzi  turned  his  head  and  looked  the  dark  man  full 
in  the  eyes. 

"  It  was  an  accident,"  he  said  faintly.  "  You  did  not 
mean  to  do  it." 

The  man  looked  away  shamefacedly,  for  he  knew 
that  even  if  he  had  not  meant  to  injure  Zorzi  for  life,  he 
had  meant  to  hurt  him  if  he  could. 

As  for  Giovanni,  he  was  puzzled  by  all  that  had  hap- 
pened so  unexpectedly,  for  he  was  a  dull  man,  though 
very  keen  for  gain,  and  he  did  not  understand  human 
nature.  He  disliked  Zorzi,  but  during  the  morning  he 
had  become  convinced  that  the  gifted  young  artist  was 
a  valuable  piece  of  property,  and  not,  as  he  had  sup- 
posed, a  clever  flatterer  who  had  wormed  himself  into 
old  Beroviero's  confidence.  A  man  who  could  make 
such  things  was  worth  much  money  to  his  master. 
There  were  kings  and  princes,  from  the  Pope  to  the 
Emperor,  who  would  have  given  a  round  sum  in  gold 
for  the  beautiful  ampulla  of  which  only  a  heap  of  tiny 
fragments  were  now  left  to  be  swept  away. 

The  two  men  brought  Zorzi  across  the  garden  to  the 
door  of  the  laboratory.  Leaning  heavily  on  the  fore- 
man he  got  the  key  out,  and  Giovanni  turned  it  in  the 
lock.  They  would  have  taken  him  to  the  small  inner 
room,  to  lay  him  on  his  pallet  bed,  but  he  would  not  go. 

"  The  bench,"  he  managed  to  say,  indicating  it  with 
a  nod  of  his  head. 


VTO  MARIETTA 

There  was  an  old  leathern  pillow  in  the  big  chair, 
The  foreman  took  it  and  placed  it  under  Zorzi's  head. 

"  We  must  get  a  surgeon  to  dress  his  wound,"  said 
the  foreman. 

"  I  will  send  for  one,"  answered  Giovanni.  "  Is  there 
anything  you  want  now  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an  attempt 
to  speak  kindly  to  the  valuable  piece  of  property  that 
lay  helpless  before  him. 

"Water,"  said  Zorzi  very  faintly.  "And  feed  the 
fire  —  it  must  be  time." 

The  foreman  dipped  a  cupful  of  water  from  an 
earthen  jar,  held  up  his  head  and  helped  him  to  drink. 
Giovanni  pushed  some  wood  into  the  furnace. 

"  I  will  send  for  a  surgeon,"  he  repeated,  and  went 
out. 

Zorzi  closed  his  eyes,  and  the  foreman  stood  looking 
at  him. 

"Do  not  stay  here,"  Zorzi  said.  "You  can  do 
nothing  for  me,  and  the  surgeon  will  come  presently." 

Then  the  foreman  also  left  him,  and  he  was  alone. 
It  was  not  in  his  nature  to  give  way  to  bodily  pain,  but 
he  was  glad  the  men  were  gone,  for  he  could  not  have 
borne  much  more  in  silence.  He  turned  his  head  to 
the  wall  and  bit  the  edge  of  the  leathern  cushion.  Now 
and  then  his  whole  body  shook  convulsively. 

He  did  not  hear  the  door  open  again,  for  the  tortur- 
ing pain  that  shot  through  him  dulled  all  his  other 
senses.  He  wished  that  he  might  faint  away,  even  for 
a  moment,  but  his  nerves  were  too  sound  for  that.  He 
was  recalled  to  outer  things  by  feeling  a  hand  laid 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  171 

gently  on  his  leg,  and  immediately  afterwards  he  heard 
a  man's  voice,  in  a  quietly  gruff  tone  that  scarcely  rose 
or  fell,  reciting  a  whole  litany  of  the  most  appalling 
blasphemies  that  ever  fell  from  human  lips.  For  an 
instant,  in  his  suffering,  Zorzi  fancied  that  he  had  died 
and  was  in  the  clutches  of  Satan  himself. 

He  turned  his  head  on  the  cushion  and  saw  the  ugly 
face  of  the  old  porter,  who  was  bending  down  and 
examining  the  wounded  foot  while  he  steadily  cursed 
everything  in  heaven  and  earth,  with  an  earnestness 
that  would  have  been  grotesque  had  his  language  been 
less  frightful.  For  a  few  moments  Zorzi  almost  for- 
got that  he  was  hurt,  as  he  listened.  Not  a  saint  in 
the  calendar  seemed  likely  to  escape  the  porter's  fury, 
and  he  even  went  to  the  length  of  cursing  the  relatives, 
male  and  female,  of  half -legendary  martyrs  and  other 
good  persons  about  whose  families  he  could  not  possibly 
know  anything. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Pasquale  !  "  cried  Zorzi.  "  You 
will  certainly  be  struck  by  lightning  !  " 

He  had  always  supposed  that  the  porter  hated  him, 
as  every  one  else  did,  and  he  could  not  understand. 
By  this  time  he  was  far  more  helpless  than  he  had 
been  just  after  he  had  been  hurt,  and  when  he  tried  to 
move  the  injured  foot  to  a  more  comfortable  position 
it  felt  like  a  lump  of  scorching  lead. 

The  porter  entered  upon  a  final  malediction,  which 
might  be  supposed  to  have  gathered  destructive  force 
by  collecting  into  itself  all  those  that  had  gone  before, 
and  he  directed  the  whole  complex  anathema  upon  the 


172  MARIETTA 

soul  of  the  coward  who  had  done  the  foul  deed,  and 
upon  his  mother,  his  sisters  and  his  daughters  if  he  had 
any,  and  upon  the  souls  of  all  his  dead  relations,  men, 
women  and  children,  and  all  of  his  relations  that  should 
ever  be  born,  to  the  end  of  time.  He  had  been  a  sailor 
in  his  youth. 

"Who  did  that  to  you?"  he  asked,  when  he  had 
thus  devoted  the  unknown  offender  to  everlasting 
perdition. 

"  Give  me  some  water,  please,"  said  Zorzi,  instead 
of  answering  the  question. 

"  Water  I  Oh  yes  I  "  Pasquale  went  to  the  earthen 
jar.  "  Water !  Every  devil  in  hell,  old  and  young, 
will  jump  and  laugh  for  joy  when  that  man  asks  for 
water  and  has  to  drink  flames  I  " 

Zorzi  drank  eagerly,  though  the  water  was  tepid. 

"  Drink,  my  son,"  said  Pasquale,  holding  his  head 
up  very  tenderly  with  one  of  his  rough  hands.  "  I  will 
put  more  within  reach  for  you  to  drink,  while  I  go 
and  get  help."  ^ 

"  They  have  sent  for  a  surgeon,"  answered  Zorzi. 

"  A  surgeon  ?  No  surgeon  shall  come  here.  A 
surgeon  will  divide  you  into  lengths,  fore  and  aft,  and 
kill  you  by  inches,  a  length  each  day,  and  for  every 
day  he  takes  to  kill  you,  he  will  ask  a  piece  of  silver 
of  the  master  I  If  a  surgeon  comes  here  I  will  throw 
him  out  into  the  canal.  This  is  a  burn,  and  it  needs 
an  old  woman  to  dress  it.  Women  are  evil  beings, 
a  chastisement  sent  upon  us  for  our  sins.  But  an  old 
woman  can  dress  a  burn.  I  go.  There  is  the  water," 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  178 

Zorzi  called  him  back  when  he  was  already  at  the 
door. 

"  The  fire  I  It  must  not  go  down.  Put  a  little 
wood  in,  Pasquale  I  " 

The  old  porter  grumbled.  It  was  unnatural  that  a 
man  so  badly  hurt  should  think  of  his  duties,  but  in 
his  heart  he  admired  Zorzi  all  the  more  for  it.  He 
took  some  wood,  and  when  Zorzi  looked,  he  was  try- 
ing to  poke  it  through  the  'bocca.* 

"  Not  there  I  "  cried  Zorzi  desperately.  "  The  small 
opening  on  the  side,  near  the  floor." 

Pasquale  uttered  several  maledictions. 

"How  should  I  know?"  he  asked  when  he  had 
found  the  right  place.  "  Am  I  a  night  boy  ?  Have  I 
ever  tended  fires  for  two  pence  a  night  and  my  supper  ? 
There  I  I  go  I  " 

Zorzi  could  hear  his  voice  still,  as  he  went  out. 

"  A  surgeon  1 "  he  grumbled.  "  I  should  like  to  see 
the  nose  of  that  surgeon  at  the  door  1 " 

Zorzi  carecj  little  who  came,  so  that  he  got  some 
relief.  His  head  was  hot  now,  and  the  blood  beat  in 
his  temples  like  little  fiery  hammers,  that  made  a  sort 
of  screaming  noise  in  his  brain.  He  saw  queer  lights 
in  circles,  and  the  beams  of  the  ceiling  came  down 
very  near,  and  then  suddenly  went  very  far  away,  so 
that  the  room  seemed  a  hundred  feet  high.  The  pain 
filled  all  his  right  side,  and  he  even  thought  he  could 
feel  it  in  his  arm. 

All  at  once  he  started,  and  as  he  lay  on  his  back 
his  hands  tried  to  grip  the  flat  wood  of  the  bench, 


174  MARIETTA 

and  his  eyes  were  wide  open  and  fixed  in  a  sort  ol 

frightened  stare. 

What  if  he  should  go  mad  with  pain  ?  Who  would 
remember  the  fire  in  the  master's  furnace?  Worse 
than  that,  what  safety  was  there  that  in  his  delirium 
he  should  not  speak  of  the  book  that  was  hidden 
under  the  stone,  the  third  from  the  oven  and  the 
fourth  from  the  corner? 

His  brain  whirled  but  he  would  not  go  mad,  nor 
lose  consciousness,  so  long  as  he  had  the  shadow  of 
free  will  left.  Rather  than  lie  there  on  his  back,  he 
would  get  off  his  bench,  cost  what  it  might,  and  drag 
himself  to  the  mouth  of  the  furnace.  There  was  a 
supply  of  wood  there,  piled  up  by  the  night  boys  for 
use  during  the  day.  He  could  get  to  it,  even  if  he 
had  to  roll  himself  over  and  over  on  the  floor.  If  he 
could  do  that,  he  could  keep  his  hold  upon  his  con- 
sciousness, the  touch  of  the  billets  would  remind  him, 
the  heat  and  the  roar  of  the  fire  would  keep  him  awake 
and  in  his  right  mind. 

He  raised  himself  slowly  and  put  his  uninjured  foot 
to  the  floor.  Then,  with  both  hands  he  lifted  the 
other  leg  off  the  bench.  He  was  conscious  of  an  in- 
crease of  pain,  which  had  seemed  impossible.  It  shot 
through  and  through  his  whole  body,  and  he  saw 
flames.  There  was  only  one  way  to  do  it,  he  must 
get  down  upon  his  hands  and  his  left  knee  and  drag 
himself  to  the  furnace  in  that  way.  It  was  a  thing 
of  infinite  difficulty  and  suffering,  but  he  did  it. 
Inch  by  inch,  he  got  nearer. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  176 

As  his  right  hand  grasped  a  billet  of  wood  from  the 

little   pile,  something   seemed  to  break   in   his  head. 

His  strength  collapsed,  he  fell  forward  from  his  knee 

•  to  his  full  length  in  the  ashes  and  dust,  and  he   felt 

nothing  more. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  porter  unbarred  the  door  and  looked  out.  It 
was  nearly  noon  and  the  southerly  breeze  was  blowing. 
The  footway  was  almost  deserted.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  canal,  in  the  shadow  of  the  Beroviero  house,  an 
old  man  who  sold  melons  in  slices  had  gone  to  sleep 
under  a  bit  of  ragged  awning,  and  the  flies  had  their 
will  of  him  and  his  wares.  A  small  boy  simply  dressed 
in  a  shirt,  and  nothing  else,  stood  at  a  little  distance, 
looking  at  the  fruit  and  listening  attentively  to  the 
voice  of  the  tempter  that  bade  him  help  himself. 

Pasquale  looked  at  the  house  opposite.     Everything 
was  quiet,  and  the  shutters  were  drawn  together,  but 
not  quite  closed.     The  flowers  outside  Marietta's  win 
dow  waved  in  the  light  breeze. 

"  Nella  I  "  cried  Pasquale,  just  as  he  was  accustomed 
to  call  the  maid  when  Marietta  wanted  her* 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  little  boy,  who  was 
about  to  deal  effectually  with  his  temptation  by  yield- 
ing to  it  at  once,  took  to  his  heels  and  ran  away.  But 
no  one  looked  out  from  the  house.  Pasquale  called 
again,  somewhat  louder.  The  shutters  of  Marietta's 
window  were  slowly  opened  inward  and  Marietta  her 
self  appeared,  all  in  white  and  pale,  looking  over  the 
flowers. 

176 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF  VENICE  177 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.  "Why  do  you  want 
Nella?" 

The  canal  was  narrow,  so  that  one  could  talk  across 
it  almost  in  an  ordinary  tone. 

"Your  pardon,  lady,"  answered  Pasquale.  "I  did 
not  mean  to  disturb  you.  There  has  been  a  little  acci- 
dent here,  saving  your  grace." 

This  he  added  to  avert  possible  ill  fortune.  Mari- 
etta instantly  thought  of  Zorzi.  She  leaned  forward 
upon  the  window-sill  above  the  flowers  and  spoke 
anxiously. 

"  What  has  happened  ?    Tell  me  quickly  ! " 

"  A  man  has  had  his  foot  badly  burned  —  it  must  be 
dressed  at  once." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"Zorzi." 

Pasquale  saw  that  Marietta  started  a  little  and  drew 
back.  Then  she  leaned  forward  again. 

"Wait  there  a  minute,"  she  said,  and  disappeared 
quickly. 

The  porter  heard  her  calling  Nella  from  an  inner 
room,  and  then  he  heard  Nella's  voice  indistinctly. 
He  waited  before  the  open  door. 

Nella  was  a  born  chatterer,  but  she  had  her  good 
qualities,  and  in  an  emergency  she  was  silent  and 
skilful. 

"Leave  it  to  me,"  she  said.  "He  will  need  no 
surgeon." 

In  her  room  she  had  a  small  store  of  simple  remedies, 
sweet  oil,  a  pot  of  balsam,  old  linen  carefully  rolled  up 

N 


178  MARIETTA 

in  little  bundles,  a  precious  ointment  made  from  the 
fat  of  vipers,  which  was  a  marvellous  cure  for  rheuma- 
tism in  the  joints,  some  syrup  of  poppies  in  a  stumpy 
phial,  a  box  of  powdered  iris  root,  and  another  of  saf- 
fron. She  took  the  sweet  oil,  the  balsam,  and  some 
linen.  She  also  took  a  small  pair  of  scissors  which 
were  among  her  most  precious  possessions.  She  threw 
her  large  black  kerchief  over  her  head  and  pinned  it 
together  under  her  chin. 

When  she  came  back  to  Marietta's  room,  her  mis- 
tress was  wrapped  in  a  dark  mantle  that  covered  her 
thin  white  dress  entirely,  and  one  corner  of  it  was 
drawn  up  over  her  head  so  as  to  hide  her  hair  and 
almost  all  her  face.  She  was  waiting  by  the  door. 

"  I  am  going  with  you,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was 
not  very  steady. 

"  But  you  will  be  seen  —  "  began  Nella. 

"By  the  porter." 

"  Your  brother  may  see  you  —  " 

"  He  is  welcome.  Come,  we  are  losing  time."  She 
opened  the  door  and  went  out  quickly. 

"I  shall  certainly  be  sent  away  for  letting  you 
come  ! "  protested  Nella,  hurrying  after  her. 

Marietta  did  not  even  answer  this,  which  Nella 
thought  very  unkind  of  her.  From  the  main  staircase 
Marietta  turned  off  at  the  first  landing,  and  went  down 
a  short  corridor  to  the  back  stairs  of  the  house,  which 
led  to  the  narrow  lane  beside  the  building.  Nella 
snorted  softly  in  approval,  for  she  had  feared  that  her 
mistress  would  boldly  pass  through  the  hall  where 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE 

there  were  always  one  or  two  idle  men-servants  in 
waiting.  The  front  door  was  closed  against  the  heat, 
they  had  met  no  one  and  they  reached  the  door  of  the 
'glass-house  without  being  seen. 

Pasquale  looked  at  Marietta  but  said  nothing  until 
all  three  were  inside.  Then  he  took  hold  of  Marietta's 
mantle  at  her  elbow,  and  held  her  back.  She  turned 
and  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"You  must  not  go  in,  lady,"  he  said.  "It  is  an  ugly 
wound  to  see." 

Marietta  pushed  him  aside  quietly,  and  led  the  way. 
Nella  followed  her  as  fast  as  she  could,  and  Pasquale 
came  last.  He  knew  that  the  two  women  would  need 
help. 

Zorzi  lay  quite  still  where  he  had  fallen,  with  one 
3iand  on  the  billet  of  beech  wood,  the  other  arm 
doubled  under  him,  his  cheek  on  the  dusty  stone. 
With  a  sharp  cry  Marietta  ran  forward  and  knelt 
beside  his  head,  dropping  her  long  mantle  as  she 
crossed  the  room.  Pasquale  uttered  an  uncompromis- 
ing exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  O,  most  holy  Mary  !  "  cried  Nella,  holding  up  her 
hands  with  the  things  she  carried. 

Marietta  believed  that  Zorzi  was  dead,  for  he  was 
very  white  and  he  lay  quite  still.  At  first  she  opened 
her  eyes  wide  in  horror,  but  in  a  moment  she  sank 
down,  covering  her  face.  Pasquale  knelt  opposite  her 
on  one  knee,  and  began  to  turn  Zorzi  on  his  back.  Nella 
was  at  his  feet,  and  she  helped,  with  great  gentleness. 

"  Do  not  be  frightened,  lady,"  said  Pasquale  reassur- 


180  MARIETTA 

ingly.  "  He  has  only  fainted.  I  left  him  on  the  bench, 
but  you  see  he  must  have  tried  to  get  up  to  feed  the 
fire." 

While  he  spoke  he  was  lifting  Zorzi  as  well  as  he 
could.  Marietta  dropped  her  hands  and  slowly  opened 
her  eyes,  and  she  knew  that  Zorzi  was  alive  when  she 
saw  his  face,  though  it  was  ghastly  and  smeared  with 
grey  ashes.  But  in  those  few  moments  she  had  felt 
what  she  could  never  forget.  It  had  been  as  if  a  vast 
sword-stroke  had  severed  her  body  at  the  waist,  and 
yet  left  her  heart  alive. 

"  Can  you  help  a  little  ? "  asked  Pasquale.  "  If  I 
could  get  him  into  my  arms,  I  could  carry  him  alone." 

Marietta  sprang  to  her  feet,  all  her  energy  and 
strength  returning  in  a  moment.  The  three  carried 
the  unconscious  man  easily  enough  to  the  bench  and 
laid  him  down,  as  he  had  lain  before,  with  his  head  on 
the  leathern  cush  on.  Then  Nolla  set  to  work  quickly 
and  skilfully,  for  she  hoped  to  dress  the  wound  while 
he  was  still  insensible.  Marietta  helped  her,  instinc- 
tively doing  what  was  right.  It  was  a  hideous  wound. 

"  It  will  heal  more  quickly  than  you  think,"  said 
Nella,  confidently.  "The  burning  has  cauterised  it." 

Marietta,  delicately  reared  and  unused  to  such  sights. 
would  have  felt  faint  if  the  man  had  not  been  Zorzi. 
As  it  was  she  only  felt  sharp  pain,  each  time  that  Nella 
touched  the  foot.  Pasquale  looked  on,  helpless  but 
approving. 

Zorzi  groaned,  then  opened  his  eyes  and  moved  one 
hand.  Nella  had  almost  finished. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  181 

"If  only  he  can  be  kept  quiet  a  few  moments 
longer,"  she  said,  "it  will  be  well  done." 

Zorzi  writhed  in  pain,  only  half  conscious  yet. 
Marietta  left  Nella  to  put  on  the  last  bandages,  and 
came  and  looked  down  into  his  face,  taking  one  of  his 
hands  in  hers.  He  recognised  her,  and  stared  in  wild 
surprise. 

"You  must  try  and  not  move,"  she  said  softly 
"  Nella  has  almost  finished." 

He  forgot  what  he  suffered,  and  the  agonised  con- 
traction of  his  brows  and  mouth  relaxed.  Marietta 
wiped  away  the  ashes  from  his  forehead  and  cheeks, 
and  smoothed  back  his  thick  hair.  No  woman's  hand 
had  touched  him  thus  since  his  mother's  when  he  had 
been  a  little  child.  He  was  too  weak  to  question  what 
was  happening  to  him,  but  a  soft  light  came  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  unconsciously  pressed  Marietta's  hand. 

She  blushed  at  the  pressure,  w;tn->dt  knowing  why, 
and  first  the  maiden  instinct  was  to  draw  away  her 
hand,  but  then  she  pitied  him  and  let  it  stay.  She 
thought,  too,  that  her  touch  helped  to  keep  him  quiet, 
and  indeed  it  did. 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  he  asked  at  length,  for  in  his 
half  consciousness  it  had  seemed  natural  that  she  should 
have  come  to  him  when  she  heard  that  he  was  hurt. 

"  Pasquale  called  Nella,"  she  answered  simply,  "  and 
I  came  too.  Is  the  pain  still  very  great  ?  " 

"  It  is  much  less.     How  can  I  thank  you  ?  " 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  and  smiled  as  he  had  seen 
her  smile  once  or  twice  before  in  his  life.  His  memory 


182  MARIETTA 

all  came  back  now.  He  knew  that  she  ought  not  to 
have  been  there,  since  her  father  was  away.  His 
expression  changed  suddenly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Marietta.  "  Does  it 
hurt  very  much  ?  " 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  was  thinking — "  He  checked 
himself,  and  glanced  at  the  porter. 

A  distant  knocking  was  heard  at  the  outer  door, 
Pasquale  shuffled  off  to  see  who  was  there. 

"  I  will  wager  that  it  is  the  surgeon  ! "  he  grumbled. 
"  Evil  befall  his  soul  !  We  do  not  want  him." 

"What  were  you  going  to  say?"  asked  Marietta, 
bending  down.  "  There  is  only  Nella  here  now." 

"Nella  should  not  have  let  you  come,"  said  Zorzi. 
"If  it  is  known,  your  father  will  be  very  angry." 

"  Ah,  do  you  see  ?  "  cried  Nella,  rising,  for  she  had 
finished.  "Did  I  not  tell  you  so,  my  pretty  lady? 
And  if  your  brother  finds  out  that  you  have  been  here 
he  will  go  into  a  fury  like  a  wild  beast  !  I  told  you  so  I 
And  as  for  your  help,  indeed,  I  could  have  brought 
another  woman,  and  there  was  Pasquale,  too.  I  sup- 
pose he  has  hands.  Oh,  there  will  be  a  beautiful  revo- 
lution in  the  house  when  this  is  known  !  " 

But  Marietta  did  not  mean  to  acknowledge  that  she 
had  done  anything  but  what  was  perfectly  right  and 
natural  under  the  circumstances  ;  to  admit  that  would 
have  been  to  confess  that  she  had  not  come  merely  out 
of  pity  and  human  kindness. 

"It  is  absurd,"  she  said  with  a  little  indignation. 
"  I  shall  tell  my  brother  myself  that  Zorzi  was  hurt, 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  188 

and  that  I  helped  you  to  dress  his  wound.  And  what 
is  more,  Nella,  you  will  have  to  come  again,  and  I  shall 
come  with  you  as  often  as  I  please.  All  Murano  may 
know  it  for  anything  I  care." 

"And  Venice  too?"  asked  Nella,  shaking  her  head 
in  disapproval.  "  What  will  they  say  in  Casa  Contarini 
when  they  hear  that  you  have  actually  gone  out  of  the 
house  to  help  a  wounded  young  man  in  your  father's 
glass-house  ?  " 

"  If  they  are  human,  they  will  say  that  I  was  quite 
right,"  answered  Marietta  promptly.  "  If  they  are  not, 
why  should  I  care  what  they  say?" 

Zorzi  smiled.  At  that  moment  Pasquale  passed  the 
window,  and  then  came  in  by  the  open  door,  growling. 
His  ugly  face  was  transfigured  by  rage,  until  it  had  a 
sort  of  grotesque  grandeur,  and  he  clenched  his  fist  as 
he  began  to  speak. 

"Animals!  Beasts!  Brutes!  Worse  than  sav- 
ages ! "  He  was  almost  incoherent. 

"Well?  What  has  happened  now?"  asked  Nella. 
"You  talk  like  a  mad  dog.  Remember  the  young 
lady!" 

"  It  would  make  a  leaden  statue  speak  I  "  answered 
Pasquale.  "  The  Signor  Giovanni  sends  a  boy  to  say 
that  the  surgeon  was  not  at  home,  because  he  had  gone 
to  shave  the  arch-priest  of  San  Piero  I  " 

In  spite  of  the  great  pain  he  still  suffered,  Zorzi 
laughed  a  little. 

"  You  said  that  you  would  throw  him  into  the  canal 
if  he  came  at  all,"  he  said. 


184  MARIETTA 

"  Yes,  and  so  I  meant  to  do !  "  cried  Pasquale.  "  But 
that  is  no  reason  why  the  inhuman  monster  should 
be  shaving  the  arch-priest  when  a  man  might  be  dying 
for  need  of  him !  Oh,  let  him  come  here  1  Oh,  I 
advise  him  to  come  I  The  miserable,  cowardly,  blood- 
letting, soap-sudding,  shaving  little  beast  of  a  barber !  " 

Pasquale  drew  a  long  breath  after  this,  and  un- 
clenched his  fist,  but  his  lips  still  moved,  as  he  said 
things  to  himself  which  would  have  shocked  Marietta 
if  she  could  have  had  the  least  idea  of  what  they 
meant. 

"  You  cannot  stay  here,"  she  said,  turning  to  Zorzi 
again.  "You  cannot  lie  on  this  bench  all  day." 

"  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  stand,"  answered  Zorzi  con- 
fidently. "I  am  much  better." 

"  You  will  not  stand  on  that  foot  for  many  a  day," 
said  Nella,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Then  Pasquale  must  get  me  a  pair  of  crutches,"  re- 
plied Zorzi.  "  I  cannot  lie  on  my  back  because  I  have 
hurt  one  foot.  I  must  tend  the  furnace,  I  must  go  on 
with  my  work,  I  must  make  the  tests,  I  must  —  " 

He  stopped  short  and  bit  his  lip,  turning  white  again 
as  a  spasm  of  excruciating  pain  shot  along  his  right 
side,  from  his  foot  upwards.  Marietta  bent  over  him, 
full  of  anxiety. 

"  You  are  suffering !  "  she  said  tenderly.  "  You  must 
not  try  to  move." 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  answered  through  his  closed 
teeth.  "  It  will  pass,  I  daresay." 

"  It  will  not  pass  to-day,"  said  Nella.     "  But  I  will 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  185 

bring  you  some  syrup  of  poppies.  That  will  make 
you  sleep." 

Marietta  seemed  to  feel  the  pain  herself.  She 
smoothed  the  leathern  cushion  under  his  head  as  well 
as  she  could,  and  softly  touched  his  forehead.  It  was 
hot  and  dry  now. 

"  He  is  feverish,"  she  said  to  Nella  anxiously. 

"  I  will  bring  him  barley  water  with  the  syrup  of 
poppies.  What  do  you  expect  ?  Do  you  think  that 
such  a  wound  and  such  a  burn  are  cooling  to  the  blood, 
and  refreshing  to  the  brain  ?  The  man  is  badly  hurt. 
Of  course  he  is  feverish.  He  ought  to  be  in  his  bed, 
like  a  decent  Christian." 

"  Some  one  must  help  me  with  the  work,"  said  Zorzi 
faintly. 

"  There  is  no  one  but  me,"  answered  Marietta  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

"  You  ?  "  cried  Nella,  greatly  scandalised. 

Even  Pasquale  stared  at  Marietta  in  silent  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  quietly.  "  There  is  no  one  else  who 
knows  enough  about  my  father's  work." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Zorzi.  "  But  you  cannot  come 
here  and  work  with  me." 

Marietta  turned  away  and  walked  to  the  window. 
In  her  thin  dress  she  stood  there  a  few  minutes, 
like  a  slender  lily,  all  white  and  gold  in  the  summer 
light. 

"  It  is  out  of  the  question  ! "  protested  Nella.  "  Her 
brother  will  never  allow  her  to  come.  He  will  lock 


186  MARIETTA 

her  up  in  her  own  room  for  safety,  till  the  master 
comes  home." 

"  I  think  I  shall  always  do  just  what  I  think  right," 
said  Marietta  quietly,  as  if  to  herself. 

"  Lord  !  "  cried  Nella.  "  The  young  lady  is  going 
mad  !  " 

Nella  was  gathering  together  the  remains  of  the  things 
she  had  brought.  Exhausted  by  the  pain  he  had  suf- 
fered, and  by  the  efforts  he  had  made  to  hide  it,  Zorzi 
lay  on  his  back,  looking  with  half-closed  eyes  at  the 
graceful  outline  of  the  girl's  figure,  and  vaguely  wish- 
ing that  she  would  never  move,  and  that  he  might  be 
allowed  to  die  while  quietly  gazing  at  her. 

"  Lady,"  said  Pasquale  at  last,  and  rather  timidly,  "  I 
will  take  good  care  of  him.  I  will  get  him  crutches 
to-morrow.  I  will  come  in  the  daytime  and  keep  the 
firs  burning  for  him." 

"  It  would  be  far  better  to  let  it  go  out,"  observed 
Nella,  with  much  sense. 

"  But  the  experiments  ! "  cried  Zorzi,  suddenly 
coming  back  from  his  dream.  "  I  have  promised  the 
master  to  carry  them  out." 

"  You  see  what  comes  of  your  glass-working,"  retorted 
Nella,  pointing  to  his  bandaged  foot. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ? "  asked  Marietta  suddenly. 
"How  did  you  do  it?" 

"  It  was  done  for  him,"  said  Pasquale,  "  and  may  the 
Last  Judgment  come  a  hundred  times  over  for  him 
who  did  it  I  " 

His  intention  was  clearer  than  his  words. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  187 

"  Do  you  mean  that  it  was  done  on  purpose,  out  of 
spite  ?  "  asked  Marietta,  looking  from  Pasquale  to  Zorzi. 
•  "  It  was  an  accident,"  said  the  latter.  "  I  was  in  the 
main  furnace  room  with  your  brother.  The  blow-pipe 
with  the  hot  glass  slipped  from  a  man's  hand.  Your 
brother  saw  it  —  he  will  tell  you." 

"  I  have  been  porter  here  for  five-and-twenty  years," 
retorted  Pasquale,  "  and  there  have  been  several 
accidents  in  that  time.  But  I  never  heard  of  one  like 
that." 

"  It  was  nothing  else,"  said  Zorzi. 

His  voice  was  weak.  Nella  had  finished  collecting 
her  belongings.  Marietta  saw  that  she  could  not  stay 
any  longer  at  present,  and  she  went  once  more  to 
Zorzi's  side. 

"Let  Pasquale  take  care  of  you  to-day,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  come  and  see  how  you  are  to-morrow  morning." 

"I  thank  you,"  he  answered.  "I  thank  you  with 
all  my  heart.  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you  how  much." 

"  You  need  none,"  said  she  quietly.  "  I  have  done 
nothing.  It  is  Nella  who  has  helped  you." 

"  Nella  knows  that  I  am  very  grateful. " 

"  Of  course,  of  course ! "  answered  the  woman  kindly. 
"  You  have  made  him  talk  too  much,"  she  added,  speak- 
ing to  Marietta.  "Let  us  go  away.  I  must  prepare 
the  barley  water.  It  takes  a  long  time." 

"  Is  he  to  have  nothing  but  barley  water  ? "  asked 
Pasquale. 

"I  will  send  him  what  he  is  to  have,"  answered 
Nella,  with  an  air  of  superiority. 


188  MARIETTA 

Marietta  looked  back  at  Zorzi  from  the  door,  and 
his  eyes  were  following  her.  She  bent  her  head  gravely 
and  went  out,  followed  by  the  others,  and  he  was  alone 
again.  But  it  was  very  different  now.  The  spasms  of 
pain  came  back  now  and  then,  but  there  was  rest  be- 
tween them,  for  there  was  a  potent  anodyne  in  the 
balsam  with  which  Nella  had  soaked  the  first  dressing. 
Of  all  possible  hurts,  the  pain  from  burning  is  the 
most  acute  and  lasting,  and  the  wise  little  woman, 
who  sometimes  seemed  so  foolish,  had  done  all  that 
science  could  have  done  for  Zorzi,  even  at  a  much  later 
day.  He  could  think  connectedly  now,  he  had  been 
able  to  talk  ;  had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  stand,  he 
might  even  have  gone  on  for  a  time  with  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  next  experiment.  Yet  he  felt  an  in 
stinctive  certainty  that  he  was  to  be  lame  for  life. 

He  was  not  thinking  of  the  experiments  just  then  , 
he  could  think  of  nothing  but  Marietta,  Four  or  five 
days  had  passed  since  he  had  talked  with  her  in  the 
garden,  and  she  was  now  formally  promised  to  Jacopc 
Contarini.  He  wondered  why  she  had  come  with 
Nella,  and  he  remembered  her  earnest  offer  of  friend- 
ship. She  meant  to  show  him  that  she  was  still  in 
earnest,  he  supposed.  It  had  been  perfect  happiness 
to  feel  her  cool  young  hand  on  his  forehead,  to  press 
it  in  his  own.  No  one  could  take  that  from  him,  as 
long  as  he  lived.  He  remembered  it  through  the 
horrible  pain  it  had  soothed,  and  it  was  better  than 
the  touch  of  an  angel,  for  it  was  the  touch  of  a  loving 
woman.  But  he  did  not  know  that,  and  he  fancied 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  189 

that  if  she  had  ever  guessed  that  he  loved  her,  she 
would  not  have  come  to  him  now.  She  would  feel 
that  the  mere  thought  in  his  heart  was  an  offence. 
And  besides,  she  was  to  marry  Contarini,  and  she  was 
not  of  the  kind  that  would  promise  to  marry  one  man 
and  yet  encourage  love  in  another.  It  was  well, 
thought  Zorzi,  that  she  had  never  suspected  the 
truth. 

When  Marietta  reached  her  room  again  she  listened 
patiently  to  Nella's  scolding  and  warning,  for  she  did 
not  hear  a  word  the  good  woman  said  to  her.  Nella 
brushed  the  dust  from  the  silk  mantle  and  from  Mari- 
etta's white  skirt  very  industriously,  lest  it  should  be- 
tray the  secret  to  Giovanni  or  any  other  member  of  the 
household.  For  they  had  escaped  being  seen,  even 
when  they  came  back. 

Nella  scolded  on  in  a  little  sing-song  voice,  with 
many  rising  inflections.  In  her  whole  life,  she  said, 
she  had  never  connived  at  anything  more  utterly  shame- 
less than  this  I  She  was  humble,  indeed,  and  of  no 
account  in  the  world,  but  if  she  had  run  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  day  to  visit  a  young  man  when^  she  was 
betrothed  to  her  poor  Vito,  blessed  soul,  and  the  Lord 
remember  him,  her  poor  Vito  would  have  gone  to  her 
father,  might  the  Lord  refresh  his  soul,  and  would  have 
said,  "What  ways  are  these?  Do  you  think  I  will 
marry  a  girl  who  runs  about  in  this  fashion  ? "  That 
was  what  Vito  would  have  said.  And  he  would  have 
said,  "Give  me  back  the  gold  things  I  gave  your 
daughter,  and  let  me  go  and  find  a  wife  who  does  not 


190  MARIETTA 

run  about  the  city."  And  it  would  have  heen  well 
said.  Did  Marietta  suppose  that  an  educated  person 
like  the  lord  Jacopo  Contarini  would  be  less  particular 
about  his  bride's  manners  than  that  good  soul  Vito? 
Not  that  Vito  had  been  ignorant.  Nella  should  have 
liked  any  one  to  dare  to  say  that  she  had  married  an 
ignorant  man  I  And  so  forth.  And  so  on. 

Marietta  heard  the  voice  without  listening  to  the 
words,  and  the  gentle,  half-complaining,  half -reproving 
tone  was  rather  soothing  than  otherwise.  She  sat  by 
the  half-closed  window  with  her  bead  work,  while 
Nella  talked,  and  brushed,  and  moved  about  the  room, 
making  imaginary  small  tasks  in  order  to  talk  the  more. 
But  Marietta  threaded  the  red  and  blue  beads  and  fas- 
tened them  in  patterns  upon  the  piece  of  stuff  she  was 
ornamenting,  and  when  Nella  looked  at  her  every  now 
and  then,  she  seemed  quite  calm  and  indifferent. 
There  had  always  been  something  inscrutable  about 
her. 

She  was  wondering  why  she  had  submitted  to  be  be- 
trothed to  Contarini,  when  she  loved  Zorzi ;  and  the 
answer  did  not  come.  She  could  not  understand  why 
it  was  that  although  she  loved  Zorzi  with  all  her  heart 
she  had  been  convinced  that  she  hated  him,  during 
four  long,  miserable  days.  Then,  too,  it  was  very 
strange  that  she  should  feel  happy,  that  she  should 
know  that  she  was  really  happy,  her  heart  brimming 
over  with  sunshine  and  joy,  while  Zorzi,  whom  she 
loved,  was  lying  on  that  uncomfortable  bench  in  dread- 
ful pain.  It  was  true  that  when  she  thought  of  his 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  191 

wound,  the  pain  ran  through  her  own  limbs  and  made 
her  move  in  her  seat.  But  the  next  moment  she  was 
perfectly  happy  again,  and  yet  was  displeased  with 
herself  for  it,  as  if  it  were  not  quite  right. 

Nella  stood  still  at  last,  close  to  her,  and  spoke  to 
her  so  directly  that  she  could  not  help  hearing. 

"My  little  lady,'*  said  the  woman,  "do  not  forget 
that  the  women  are  coming  early  to-morrow  morning 
to  show  you  the  stuffs  which  your  father  has  chosen  for 
your  wedding  gown." 

"  Yes.     I  remember." 

Marietta  laid  down  her  work  in  the  little  basket  of 
beads  and  looked  away  towards  the  window.  Between 
the  shutters  she  could  just  see  one  of  the  scarlet  flowers 
of  the  sweet  geranium,  waving  in  the  sunlight.  It  was 
true.  The  women  were  coming  in  the  morning  to  be- 
gin the  work.  They  would  measure  her,  and  cut  out 
patterns  in  buckram  and  fit  them  on  her,  making  her 
stand  a  long  time.  They  would  spread  out  silks  and 
satins  on  the  bed  and  on  the  table,  they  would  hold 
them  up  and  make  long  draperies  with  them,  and  make 
the  light  flash  in  the  deep  folds,  and  they  would  tell 
her  how  beautiful  she  would  be  as  a  bride,  and  that  her 
skin  was  whiter  than  lilies  and  milk  and  snow,  and  her 
hair  finer  than  silk  and  richer  than  ropes  of  spun  red 
gold.  While  they  were  saying  those  things  she  would 
look  very  grave  and  indifferent,  and  nothing  they  could 
show  her  would  make  her  open  her  eyes  wide ;  but  her 
heart  would  laugh  long  and  sweetly,  for  she  should  be 
infinitely  happy,  though  no  one  would  know  it.  She 


192  MARIETTA 

would  give  no  opinion  about  the  gown,  no  matter  how 
they  pressed  her  with  questions. 

After  that  the  pieces  that  were  to  be  embroidered 
would  be  very  carefully  weighed,  the  silk  and  the  satin, 
and  the  weights  of  the  pieces  would  be  written  down. 
Also,  each  of  the  hired  women  who  were  to  make  the 
embroidery  would  receive  a  certain  amount  of  silver 
and  gold  thread,  of  which  the  weight  would  be  written 
down  under  that  of  the  stuff,  and  the  two  figures  added 
together  would  mean  just  what  the  finished  piece  of 
embroidery  ought  to  weigh.  For  if  this  were  not  done, 
the  women  would  of  course  steal  the  gold  and  silver 
thread,  a  little  every  day,  and  take  it  away  in  their 
mouths,  because  the  housekeeper  would  always  search 
them  every  evening,  in  spite  of  the  weighing.  But  they 
were  well  paid  for  the  work  and  did  not  object  to  being 
suspected,  for  it  was  part  of  their  business. 

In  time,  Marietta  would  go  to  see  the  work  they  were 
doing,  in  the  great  cool  loft  where  they  would  sit  all 
day,  where  the  linen  presses  stood  side  by  side,  and  the 
great  chests  which  held  the  hangings  and  curtains  and 
carpets  that  were  used  on  great  occasions.  The  house- 
keeper had  her  little  room  up  there,  and  could  watch 
the  sewing- women  at  their  work  and  scold  them  if  they 
were  idle,  noting  how  much  should  be  taken  from  their 
pay.  The  women  would  sing  long  songs,  answering 
each  other  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  but  no  one  would  hear 
them  below,  because  the  house  was  so  big. 

By  and  by  the  work  would  be  almost  finished,  and 
then  it  would  be  quite  done,  and  the  wedding  day 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  193 

would  be  very  near.  There  Marietta's  vision  of  the 
future  suddenly  came  to  a  climax,  as  she  tried  to  imag- 
ine what  would  happen  when  she  should  boldly  declare 
that  neither  her  father,  nor  the  Council  of  Ten,  nor  the 
Doge  himself,  nor  even  His  Holiness  Pope  Paul,  who 
was  a  Venetian  too,  could  ever  make  her  marry  Jacopo 
Contarini.  There  would  be  such  a  convulsion  of  the 
family  as  had  never  taken  place  since  she  was  born.  In 
her  imagination  she  fancied  all  Murano  taking  sides  for 
her  or  against  her  ;  even  Venice  itself  would  be  amazed 
at  the  temerity  of  a  girl  who  dared  to  refuse  the  hus- 
band her  father  had  chosen  for  her.  It  would  be  an 
outrage  on  all  authority,  a  scandal  never  to  be  forgot- 
ten, an  unheard-of  rebellion  against  the  natural  law 
by  which  unmarried  children  were  held  in  bondage  as 
slaves  to  their  parents.  But  Marietta  was  not  fright- 
ened by  the  tremendous  consequences  her  fancy  deduced 
from  her  refusal  to  marry.  She  was  happy.  Some 
day,  the  man  she  loved  would  know  that  she  had  faced 
the  world  for  him,  rather  than  be  bound  to  any  one 
else,  and  he  would  love  her  all  the  more  dearly  for  hav- 
ing risked  so  much.  She  had  never  been  so  happy 
before.  Only,  now  and  then,  when  she  thought  of 
Zorzi's  hurt,  she  felt  a  sharp  thrill  of  pain  run  through 
her. 

All  day  the  tide  of  joy  was  high  in  her  heart. 
Towards  evening,  she  sent  Nella  over  to  the  glass- 
house to  see  how  Zorzi  was  doing,  and  as  soon  as  the 
woman  was  gone  she  stood  at  the  open  window,  behind 
her  flowers,  to  watch  her  go  in.  Pasquale  would  look 
o 


194  MARIETTA 

out,  the  door  would  be  open  for  a  moment,  she  would 
be  a  little  nearer. 

Even  in  that  small  anticipation  she  was  not  disap- 
pointed. It  was  a  new  joy  to  be  able  to  look  from  her 
window  into  the  dark  entry  that  led  to  the  place  where 
Zorzi  was.  To-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  he  would 
perhaps  come  to  the  door,  helped  by  Pasquale,  but 
to-morrow  morning  she  would  go  and  see  him,  come 
what  might.  She  was  not  afraid  of  her  brother  Gio- 
vanni, and  it  might  be  long  before  her  father  came 
back.  Till  then,  at  all  events,  she  would  do  what 
she  thought  right,  no  matter  how  Nella  might  be 
scandalised. 

Nella  came  back,  and  said  that  Zorzi  was  better,  that 
he  had  slept  all  the  afternoon  and  now  had  very  little 
pain,  and  he  was  not  in  any  anxiety  about  the  furnace, 
for  Pasquale  had  kept  the  fire  burning  properly  all 
day.  Zorzi  had  begged  Nella  to  deliver  a  message  of 
thanks. 

"Try  and  remember  just  what  he  told  you,"  said 
Marietta. 

"  There  was  nothing  especial,"  answered  Nella  with 
exasperating  indifference.  "He  said  that  I  was  to 
thank  you  very  much.  Something  like  that  —  noth- 
ing else." 

"  I  am  sure  that  those  were  not  his  words.  Why 
did  you  forget  them?" 

"  If  it  had  been  an  account  of  money  spent,  I  should 
remember  it  exactly,"  answered  Nella.  "A  penny- 
worth of  thread,  beeswax  a  farthing,  so  much  for 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  195 

needles  ;  I  should  forget  nothing.  But  when  a  man 
says  4 1  thank  you,'  what  is  there  to  remember  ?  But 
you  are  never  satisfied  !  Nella  may  work  her  hands 
to  the  bone  for  you,  Nella  may  run  errands  for  you 
till  she  is  lame,  you  are  never  pleased  with  what  Nella 
does  !  It  is  always  the  same." 

She  tossed  her  brown  head  to  show  that  she  was 
offended.  But  Marietta  laughed  softly  and  patted 
the  little  woman's  cheek  affectionately. 

"You  are  a  dear  little  old  angel,"  she  said. 

Nella  was  pacified. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  porter  kept  his  word,  and  took  good  care  of 
Zorzi.  When  the  night  boys  had  come,  he  carried  him 
into  the  inner  room  and  put  him  to  bed  like  a  child. 
Zorzi  asked  him  to  tell  the  boys  to  wake  him  at  the 
watches,  as  they  had  done  on  the  previous  night,  and 
Pasquale  humoured  him,  but  when  he  went  away  he 
wisely  forgot  to  give  the  message,  and  the  lads,  who 
knew  that  he  had  been  hurt,  supposed  that  he  was 
not  to  be  disturbed.  It  was  broad  daylight  when  he 
awoke  and  saw  Pasquale  standing  beside  him. 

"  Are  the  boys  gone  already  ? "  he  asked,  almost  as 
he  opened  his  eyes. 

"  No,  they  are  all  asleep  in  a  corner,"  answered  the 
porter. 

"  Asleep  I  "  cried  Zorzi,  in  sudden  anxiety.  "  Wake 
them,  Pasquale,  and  see  whether  the  sand-glass  has 
been  turned  and  is  running,  and  whether  the  fire  is 
burning.  The  young  good-for-nothings  !  " 

"I  will  wake  them,"  answered  Pasquale.  "I  sup- 
posed that  they  were  allowed  to  sleep  after  day- 
light." 

A  moment  later  Zorzi  heard  him  apostrophising  the 
three  lads  with  his  usual  vigour  of  language.  Judg- 

196 


MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF    VENICE  197 

ing  from  the  sounds  that  accompanied  the  words  he 
was  encouraging  their  movements  by  other  means  also. 
Presently  one  of  the  three  set  up  a  howl. 

"  Oh,  you  sons  of  snails  and  codfish,  I  will  teach 
you  ! "  growled  Pasquale  ;  and  he  proceeded  to  teach 
them,  till  they  were  all  three  howling  at  once. 

Zorzi  knew  that  they  deserved  a  beating,  but  he  was 
naturally  tender-hearted. 

"  Pasquale  !  "  he  called  out.  "  Let  them  alone  ! 
Let  them  make  up  the  fire  ! " 

Pasquale  came  back,  and  the  yells  subsided. 

"  I  have  knocked  their  empty  heads  together,"  he 
observed.  "They  will  not  sleep  for  a  week.  Yes, 
the  sand-glass  has  run  out,  but  the  fire  is  not  very  low. 
I  will  bring  you  water,  and  when  you  are  dressed  I 
will  carry  you  out  into  the  laboratory." 

The  boys  did  not  dare  to  go  away  till  they  had  made 
up  the  fire.  Then  they  took  themselves  off,  and  as 
Pasquale  let  them  out  he  treated  them  to  a  final  ex- 
pression of  his  opinion.  The  tallest  of  the  three  was 
bleeding  from  his  nose,  which  had  been  brought  into 
violent  conjunction  with  the  skull  of  one  of  his  com- 
panions. When  the  door  was  shut,  and  they  had  gone 
a  few  steps  along  the  footway,  he  stopped  the  others. 

"  We  are  glass-blowers'  sons,"  he  said,  "  and  we  have 
been  beaten  by  that  swine  of  a  porter.  Let  us  be  re- 
venged on  him.  Even  Zorzi  would  not  have  dared  to 
touch  us,  because  he  is  a  foreigner." 

"We  can  do  nothing,"  answered  the  smallest  boy 
disconsolately.  "  If  I  tell  my  father  that  we  went  to 


198  MARIETTA 

sleep,  he  will  say  that  the  porter  served  us  right,  and 
I  shall  get  another  beating." 

"  You  are  cowards,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "  But  1 
am  wounded,"  he  continued  proudly,  pointing  to  his 
nose.  "I  will  go  to  the  master  and  ask  redress.  I 
will  sit  down  before  the  door  and  wait  for  him." 

"Do  what  you  please,"  returned  the  others.  "We 
will  go  home." 

"  You  have  no  spirit  of  honour  in  you,"  said  the  tall 
boy  contemptuously. 

He  turned  his  back  on  them  in  disdain,  crossed  the 
bridge  and  sat  down  under  the  covered  way  in  front  of 
Beroviero's  house.  He  smeared  the  blood  over  his  face 
till  he  really  looked  as  if  he  might  be  badly  hurt,  and 
he  kept  up  a  low,  tremulous  moaning.  His  nose  really 
hurt  him,  and  as  he  was  extremely  sorry  for  himself 
some  real  tears  came  into  his  eyes  now  and  then.  He 
waited  a  long  time.  The  front  door  was  opened  and 
two  men  came  out  with  brooms  and  began  to  sweep. 
When  they  saw  him  they  were  for  making  him  go 
away,  but  he  cried*  out  that  he  was  waiting  for  the 
Signer  Giovanni,  to  show  him  how  a  free  glass-blower's 
son  had  been  treated  by  a  dog  of  a  foreigner  and  a 
swine  of  a  porter  over  there  in  the  glass-house.  Then 
the  servants  let  him  stay,  for  they  feared  the  porter 
and  hated  Zorzi  for  being  a  Dalmatian. 

At  last  Giovanni  came  out,  and  the  boy  at  once 
uttered  a  particularly  effective  moan.  Giovanni 
stopped  and  looked  at  him,  and  he  gulped  and  sobbed 
vigorously. 


A  MAID   OP  VENICE  199 

"  Get  up  and  go  away  at  once  !  "  said  Giovanni, 
much  disgusted  by  the  sight  of  the  blood. 

"I  will  not  go  till  you  hear  me,  sir,"  answered  the 
boy  dramatically.  "I  am  a  free  glass-blower's  son 
and  I  have  been  beaten  like  this  by  the  porter  of  the 
glass-house  !  This  is  the  way  we  are  treated,  though 
we  work  to  learn  the  art  as  our  fathers  worked  be- 
fore us." 

"  You  probably  went  to  sleep,  you  little  wretch,"  ob- 
served Giovanni.  "  Get  out  of  my  way,  and  go  home  !  " 

"  Justice,  sir  I  Justice  I  "  moaned  the  boy,  dropping 
himself  on  his  knees. 

"  Nonsense  !  Go  away  I "  Giovanni  pushed  him 
aside,  and  began  to  walk  on. 

The  boy  sprang  up  and  followed  him,  and  running 
beside  him  as  Giovanni  tried  to  get  away,  touched  the 
skirt  of  his  coat  respectfully,  and  then  kissed  the  back 
of  his  own  hand. 

"  If  you  will  listen  to  me,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
4 1  will  tell  you  something  you  wish  to  know." 

Giovanni  stopped  short  and  looked  at  him  with 
curiosity. 

"I  will  tell  you  of  something  the 'master  did  on  the 
Sunday  night  before  he  went  on  his  journey,"  con- 
tinued the  lad.  "I  am  one  of  the  night  boys  in  the 
laboratory,  and  I  saw  with  my  eyes  while  the  others 
were  asleep,  for  we  had  been  told  to  wait  till  we  were 
called." 

Giovanni  looked  about,  to  see  whether  any  one  was 
within  hearing.  They  were  still  in  the  covered  foot- 


200  MARIETTA 

way  above  which  the  first  story  of  the  house  was  built, 
but  were  near  the  end,  and  the  shutters  of  the  lower 
windows  were  closed. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  saw,"  said  Giovanni,  "  but  do  not 
speak  loud." 

At  this  moment  the  other  two  boys  came  running  up 
with  noisy  lamentations.  With  the  wisdom  of  their 
kind  they  had  patiently  watched  to  see  whether  their 
companion  would  get  a  hearing  of  the  master,  and 
judging  that  he  had  been  successful  at  last,  they  came 
to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  his  efforts. 

"  We  also  have  been  beaten  !  "  they  wailed,  but  they 
bore  no  outward  and  visible  signs  of  ill-treatment  on 
them. 

The  elder  boy  turned  upon  them  with  righteous 
fury,  and  to  their  unspeakable  surprise  began  to  drive 
them  away  with  kicks  and  blows.  They  could  not 
stand  against  him,  and  after  a  brief  resistance,  they 
turned  and  ran  at  full  speed.  The  victor  came  back  to 
Giovanni's  side. 

"  They  are  cowardly  fellows,"  he  said,  with  disdain. 
"  They  are  ignorant  boys.  What  do  you  expect  ?  But 
they  will  not  come  back." 

"  Go  on  with  your  story,"  said  Giovanni  impatiently, 
"but  speak  low." 

"  It  was  on  Sunday  night,  sir.  The  master  came  to 
talk  with  Zorzi  in  the  laboratory.  I  was  in  the  garden, 
at  the  entrance  of  the  other  passage.  When  the  door 
opened  there  was  not  much  light,  and  the  master  was 
wrapped  in  his  cloak,  and  he  turned  a  little,  and  went 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  201 

in  sideways,  so  I  knew  that  he  had  something  under 
his  arm,  for  the  door  is  narrow." 

"He  was  probably  bringing  over  some  valuable 
materials,"  said  Giovanni. 

"  I  believd  he  was  bringing  the  great  book,"  said  the 
boy  confidently,  but  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"What  great  book?" 

The  lad  looked  at  Giovanni  with  an  expression  of 
cunning  on  his  face,  as  much  as  to  say  that  he  was  not 
to  be  deceived  by  such  a  transparent  pretence  of 
ignorance. 

"He  was  afraid  to  leave  it  in  his  house,"  he  said, 
"lest  you  should  find  it  and  learn  how  to  make  the 
gold  as  he  does.  So  he  took  it  over  to  the  laboratory 
at  night." 

Giovanni  began  to  understand,  though  it  was  the 
first  time  he  had  heard  that  the  boys,  like  the  common 
people,  suspected  Angelo  Beroviero  of  being  an  alchem- 
ist. It  was  clear  that  the  boy  meant  the  book  that 
contained  the  priceless  secrets  for  glass-making  which 
Giovanni  and  his  brother  had  so  long  coveted.  His 
interest  increased. 

"After  all,"  he  said,  "you  saw  nothing  distinctly. 
My  father  went  in  and  shut  the  door,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  boy.  "  But  after  a  long  time 
the  door  opened  again." 

He  stopped,  resolved  to  be  questioned,  in  order  that 
his  information  should  seem  more  valuable.  The 
instinct  of  small  boys  is  often  as  diabolically  keen  as 
that  of  a  grown  woman. 


202  MARIETTA 

"  Go  on  I "  said  Giovanni,  more  and  more  interested. 
"  The  door  opened  again,  you  say  ?  Then  my  father 
came  out  —  " 

"No,  sir.  Zorzi  came  out  into  the  light  that  fell 
from  the  door.  The  master  was  inside." 

"  Well,  what  did  Zorzi  do  ?     Be  quick !  " 

"  He  brought  out  a  shovel  full  of  earth,  sir,  and  he 
carefully  scattered  it  about  over  the  flower-bed,  and 
then  he  went  back,  and  presently  he  came  out  with 
the  shovel  again,  and  more  earth;  and  so  three 
times.  They  had  buried  the  great  book  somewhere 
in  the  laboratory." 

"But  the  laboratory  is  paved,"  objected  Giovanni, 
to  gain  time,  for  he  was  thinking. 

"  There  is  earth  under  the  stones,  sir.  I  remember 
seeing  it  last  year  when  the  masons  put  down  several 
new  slabs.  The  great  book  is  somewhere  under  the 
floor  of  the  laboratory.  I  must  have  stepped  over  it 
in  feeding  the  fire  last  night,  and  that  is  why  the  devils 
that  guard  it  inspired  the  porter  to  beat  me  this 
morning.  It  was  the  devils  that  sent  us  to  sleep,  for 
fear  that  we  should  find  it." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  Giovanni  with  much  gravity,  for 
he  thought  it  better  that  the  boy  should  be  kept  in 
awe  of  an  object  that  possessed  such  immense  value. 
"  You  should  be  careful  in  future,  or  ill  may  befall  you." 

"  Is  it  true,  sir,  that  I  have  told  you  something  you 
wished  to  know  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  that  the  great  book  is  safe," 
answered  Giovanni  ambiguously. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  208 

"  Zorzi  knows  where  it  is,"  suggested  the  boy  in  a 
tone  meant  to  convey  the  suspicion  that  Zorzi  might 
use  his  knowledge. 

"Yes  —  yes,"  repeated  Giovanni  thoughtfully,  "and 
he  is  ill.  He  ought  to  be  brought  over  to  the  house 
until  he  is  better." 

"  Then  the  furnace  could  be  allowed  to  go  out,  sir, 
could  it  not  ?  " 

"Yes.  The  weather  is  growing  warm,  as  it  is. 
Yes  —  the  furnace  may  be  put  out  now."  Giovanni 
hardly  knew  that  he  was  speaking  aloud.  "Zorzi 
will  get  well  much  sooner  if  he  is  in  a  good  room  in 
the  house.  I  will  see  to  it." 

The  boy  stood  still  beside  him,  waiting  patiently  for 
some  reward. 

"  Are  we  to  come  as  usual  to-night,  sir,  or  will  there 
be  no  fire  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Go  and  ask  at  the  usual  time.  I  have  not  decided 
yet.  There  —  you  are  a  good  boy.  If  you  hold  your 
tongue  there  will  be  more." 

Giovanni  offered  the  lad  a  piece  of  money,  but  he 
would  not  take  it. 

"  We  are  glass-blowers'  sons,  sir,  we  are  not  poor 
people,"  he  said  with  theatrical  pride,  for  he  would 
have  taken  the  coin  without  remark  if  he  had  not 
felt  that  he  possessed  a  secret  of  great  value,  which 
might  place  Giovanni  in  his  power  before  long. 

Giovanni  was  surprised. 

"  What  do  you  want,  then  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  old  enough  to  be  an  apprentice,  sir.'* 


204  MARIETTA 

"Very  well,"  answered  Giovanni.  "You  shall  be 
an  apprentice.  But  hold  your  tongue  about  what  you 
saw.  You  told  me  everything,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  And  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,  sir. 
If  I  can  help  you,  sir  —  "  he  stopped. 

"  Help  me  !  "  exclaimed  Giovanni.  "  I  do  not  work 
at  the  furnaces  !  Wash  your  face  and  come  by  and  by 
to  my  glass-house,  and  you  shall  have  an  apprentice's 
place." 

"  I  shall  serve  you  well,  sir.  You  shall  see  that  I  am 
grateful,"  answered  the  boy. 

He  touched  Giovanni's  sleeve  and  kissed  his  own 
hand,  and  ran  back  to  the  steps  before  the  front  door. 
There  he  knelt  down,  leaning  over  the  water,  and 
washed  his  face  in  the  canal,  well  pleased  with  the 
price  he  had  got  for  his  bruising. 

Giovanni  did  not  look  at  him,  but  turned  to  go  on, 
past  the  corner  of  the  house,  in  deep  thought.  From 
the  narrow  line  into  which  the  back  door  opened,  Mari- 
etta and  Nella  emerged  at  the  same  moment.  Nella 
had  made  sure  that  Giovanni  had  gone  out,  but  she 
could  not  foresee  that  he  would  stop  a  long  time  to  talk 
with  the  boy  in  the  covered  footway.  She  ran  against 
him,  as  he  passed  the  corner,  for  she  was  walking  on 
Marietta's  left  side.  The  young  girl's  face  was  covered, 
but  she  knew  that  Giovanni  must  recognise  her  in- 
stantly, by  her  cloak,  and  because  Nella  was  with  her. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"  To  church,  sir,  to  church,"  answered  Nella  in  great 
perturbation.  "The  young  lady  is  going  to  confes- 


sion." 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  205 

"  Ah,  very  good,  very  good  ! "  exclaimed  Giovanni, 
who  was  very  attentive  to  religious  forms.  "By  all 
means  go  to  confession,  my  sister.  You  cannot  be  too 
conscientious  in  the  performance  of  your  duties." 

But  Marietta  laughed  a  little  under  her  veil. 

"  I  had  not  the  least  intention  of  going  to  confession 
this  morning,"  she  said.  "  Nella  said  so  because  you 
frightened  her." 

"What?  What  is  this?"  Giovanni  looked  from 
one  to  the  other.  "  Then  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  the  glass-house,"  answered  Marietta  with  per- 
fect coolness. 

"You  are  not  going  to  the  laboratory?  Zorzi  is 
living  there  alone.  You  cannot  go  there." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  Zorzi.  In  the  first  place,  I  wish 
to  know  how  he  is.  Secondly,  this  is  the  hour  for 
making  the  tests,  and  as  he  cannot  stand  he  cannot  try 
the  glass  alone." 

Giovanni  was  amazed  at  her  assurance,  and  immedi- 
ately assumed  a  grave  and  authoritative  manner  befit- 
ting the  eldest  brother  who  represented  the  head  of  the 
house. 

"  I  cannot  allow  you  to  go,"  he  said.  "  It  is  most 
unbecoming.  Our  father  would  be  shocked.  Go  back 
at  once,  and  never  think  of  going  to  the  laboratory 
while  Zorzi  is  there.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Come,  Nella,"  she  added,  taking  her  serving- 
woman  by  the  arm. 

Before  Giovanni  realised  what  she  was  going  to  do, 
she  was  walking  quickly  across  the  wooden  bridge 


206  MARIETTA 

towards  the  glass-house,  holding  Nella's  sleeve,  to  keep 
her  from  lagging,  and  Nella  trotted  beside  her  mistress 
like  a  frightened  lamb,  led  by  a  string.  Giovanni  did 
not  attempt  to  follow  at  first,  for  he  was  utterly  non- 
plussed by  his  sister's  behaviour.  He  rarely  knew 
what  to  do  when  any  one  openly  defied  him.  He  stood 
still,  staring  after  the  two,  and  saw  Marietta  tap  upon 
the  door  of  the  glass-house.  It  opened  almost  imme- 
diately and  they  disappeared  within. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight,  his  anger  broke 
out,  and  he  made  a  few  quick  steps  on  the  bridge. 
Then  he  stopped,  for  he  was  afraid  to  make  a  scandal. 
That  at  least  was  what  he  said  to  himself,  but  the  fact 
was  that  he  was  afraid  to  face  his  sister,  who  was 
infinitely  braver  and  cooler  than  he.  Besides,  he  re- 
flected that  he  could  not  now  prevent  her  from  going 
to  the  laboratory,  since  she  was  already  there,  and  that 
it  would  be  very  undignified  to  make  a  scene  before 
Zorzi,  who  was  only  a  servant  after  all.  This  last  con- 
sideration consoled  him  greatly.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
law,  and  therefore  in  Giovanni's,  Zorzi  was  a  hired 
servant.  Now,  socially  speaking,  a  servant  was  not 
a  man ;  and  since  Zorzi  was  not  a  man,  and  Marietta 
was  therefore  gone  with  one  servant  to  a  place, 
belonging  to  her  father,  where  there  was  another  ser- 
vant, to  go  thither  and  forcibly  bring  her  back  would 
either  be  absurd,  or  else  it  would  mean  that  Zorzi  had 
acquired  a  new  social  rank,  which  was  absurd  also. 
There  is  no  such  consolation  to  a  born  coward  as  a 
logical  reason  for  not  doing  what  he  is  afraid  to  do. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  207 

But  Giovanni  promised  himself  that  he  would  make 
his  sister  pay  dearly  for  having  defied  him,  and  as  he 
had  also  made  up  his  mind  to  have  Zorzi  removed  to 
the  house,  on  pretence  of  curing  his  hurt,  but  in  real- 
ity in  order  to  search  for  the  precious  manuscripts,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  Marietta  to  commit  the  same 
piece  of  folly  a  second  time.  But  she  should  pay  for 
the  affront  she  had  put  upon  him. 

He  accordingly  came  back  to  the  footway  and 
walked  along  toward  his  own  glass-house ;  and  the 
boy,  who  had  finished  washing  his  face,  smoothed  his 
hair  with  his  wet  fingers  and  followed  him,  having 
seen  and  understood  all  that  had  happened. 

Marietta  sent  Pasquale  on,  to  tell  Zorzi  that  she 
was  coming,  and  when  she  reached  the  laboratory  he 
was  sitting  in  the  master's  big  chair,  with  his  foot  on 
a  stool  before  him.  His  face  was  pale  and  drawn 
from  the  suffering  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  and 
from  time  to  time  he  was  still  in  great  pain.  As 
Marietta  entered,  he  looked  up  with  a  grateful  smile. 

"  You  seem  glad  to  see  us  after  all,"  she  said.  "  Yet 
you  protested  that  I  should  not  come  to-day  1 " 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  he  answered. 

"  Ah,  but  if  you  had  been  with  us  just  now  1 "  Nella 
began,  still  frightened. 

But  Marietta  would  not  let  her  go  on. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Nella,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh.  "  You  should  know  better  than  to  trouble  a 
sick  man's  fancy  with  such  stories." 

Nella  understood  that  Zorzi  was  not  to  know,  and 


208  MARIETTA 

she  began  examining  the  foot,  to  make  sure  that  the 
bandages  had  not  been  displaced  during  the  night. 

"  To-morrow  I  will  change  them,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
not  like  a  scald.  The  glass  has  burned  you  like  red- 
hot  iron,  and  the  wound  will  heal  quickly." 

"  If  you  will  tell  me  which  crucible  to  try,"  said 
Marietta,  "  I  will  make  the  tests  for  you.  Then  we 
can  move  the  table  to  your  side  and  you  can  prepare 
the  new  ingredients  according  to  the  writing." 

Pasquale  had  left  them,  seeing  that  he  was  not 
wanted. 

"  I  fear  it  is  of  little  use,"  answered  Zorzi,  despond- 
ently. "  Of  course,  the  master  is  very  wise,  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  he  has  added  so  much,  from  time  to 
time,  to  the  original  mixture,  and  so  much  has  been 
taken  away,  as  to  make  it  all  very  uncertain." 

"  I  daresay,"  assented  Marietta.  "  For  some  time  I 
have  thought  so.  But  we  must  carry  out  his  wishes  to 
the  letter,  else  he  will  always  believe  that  the  experi- 
ments might  have  succeeded  if  he  had  stayed  here." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Zorzi.  "  We  should  make  tests  of 
all  three  crucibles  to-day,  if  it  is  only  to  make  more 
room  for  the  things  that  are  to  be  put  in." 

"  Where  is  the  copper  ladle  ?  "  asked  Marietta.  "  I 
do  not  see  it  in  its  place." 

"  I  have  none  —  I  had  forgotten.  Your  brother 
came  here  yesterday  morning,  and  wanted  to  try  the 
glass  himself  in  spite  of  me.  I  knocked  the  ladle  out 
of  his  hand  and  it  fell  through  into  the  crucible." 

"  That  was  like  you,"  said  Marietta.  "  I  am  glad 
you  did  it." 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  209 

"Heaven  knows  what  has  happened  to  the  thing,'' 
Zorzi  answered.  "  It  has  been  there  since  yesterday 
morning.  For  all  I  know,  it  may  have  melted  by  this 
time.  It  may  affect  the  glass,  too." 

"  Where  can  I  get  another  ?  "  asked  Marietta,  anxious 
to  begin. 

Zorzi  made  an  instinctive  motion  to  rise.  It  hurt 
him  badly  and  he  bit  his  lip. 

"  I  forgot,"  he  said.  "  Pasquale  can  get  another 
ladle  from  the  main  glass-house." 

"  Go  and  call  Pasquale,  Nella,"  said  Marietta  at  once. 
"  Ask  him  to  get  a  copper  ladle." 

Nella  went  out  into  the  garden,  leaving  the  two 
together.  Marietta  was  standing  between  the  chair 
and  the  furnace,  two  or  three  steps  from  Zorzi.  It 
was  very  hot  in  the  big  room,  for  the  window  was  still 
shut. 

"  Tell  me  how  you  really  feel,"  Marietta  said,  almost 
at  once. 

Every  woman  who  loves  a  man  and  is  anxious  about 
him  is  sure  that  if  she  can  be  alone  with  him  for  a 
moment,  he  will  tell  her  the  truth  about  his  condition. 
The  experience  of  thousands  of  years  has  not  taught 
women  that  if  there  is  one  person  in  the  world  from 
whom  a  man  will  try  to  conceal  his  ills  and  aches,  it  is 
the  woman  he  loves,  because  he  would  rather  suffer 
everything  than  give  her  pain. 

"  I  feel  perfectly  well,"  said  Zorzi. 

"  Indeed  you  are  not  I  "  answered  Marietta  energeti- 
cally. "  If  you  were  perfectly  well  you  would  be  on 
p 


210  MARIETTA 

your  feet,  doing  your  work  yourself.  Why  will  you 
not  tell  me  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  I  have  no  pain,"  said  Zorzi. 

"You  had  great  pain  just  now,  when  you  tried  to 
move,"  retorted  Marietta.  "You  know  it.  Why  do 
you  try  to  deceive  me  ?  Do  you  think  I  cannot  see  it 
in  your  face  ?  " 

"  It  is  nothing.  It  comes  now  and  then,  and  goes 
away  again  almost  at  once." 

Marietta  had  come  close  to  him  while  she  was 
speaking.  One  hand  hung  by  her  side  within  his 
reach.  He  longed  to  take  it,  with  such  a  longing  as 
he  had  never  felt  for  anything  in  his  life  ;  he  resisted 
with  all  the  strength  he  had  left.  But  he  remembered 
that  he  had  held  her  hand  in  his  yesterday,  and  the 
memory  was  a  force  in  itself,  outside  of  him,  drawing 
him  in  spite  of  himself,  lifting  his  arm  when  he  com- 
manded it  to  lie  still.  His  eyes  could  not  take  them- 
selves from  the  beautiful  white  fingers,  so  delicately 
curved  as  they  hung  down,  so  softly  shaded  to  pale 
rose  colour  at  their  tapering  tips.  She  stood  quite 
still,  looking  down  at  his  bent  head. 

"You  would  not  refuse  my  friendship,  now,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice,  so  low  that  when  she  had  spoken 
she  doubted  whether  he  could  have  understood. 

He  took  her  hand  then,  for  he  had  no  resistance  left, 
and  she  let  him  take  it,  and  did  not  blush.  He  held 
it  in  both  his  own  and  silently  drew  it  to  him,  till  he 
was  pressing  it  to  his  heart  as  he  had  never  hoped 
to  do. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  211 

"  You  are  too  good  to  me,"  he  said,  scarcely  know- 
ing that  he  pronounced  the  words. 

Nella  passed  the  window,  coming  back  from  her 
errand.  Instantly  Marietta  drew  her  hand  away,  and 
when  the  serving-woman  entered  she  was  speaking  to 
Zorzi  in  the  most  natural  tone  in  the  world. 

"  Is  the  testing  plate  quite  clean  ?  "  she  asked,  and 
she  was  already  beside  it. 

Zorzi  looked  at  her  with  amazement.  She  had 
almost  been  seen  with  her  hand  in  his,  a  catastrophe 
which  he  supposed  would  have  entailed  the  most 
serious  consequences  ;  yet  there  she  was,  perfectly 
unconcerned  and  not  even  faintly  blushing,  and  she 
had  at  once  pretended  that  they  had  been  talking 
about  the  glass. 

"Yes  —  I  believe  it  is  clean,"  he  answered,  almost 
hesitating.  "I  cleaned  it  yesterday  morning." 

Nella  had  brought  the  copper  ladle.  There  were 
always  several  in  the  glass-works  for  making  tests. 
Marietta  took  it  and  went  to  the  furnace,  while  Nella 
watched  her,  in  great  fear  lest  she  should  burn  her- 
self. But  the  young  girl  was  in  no  danger,  for  she 
had  spent  half  her  life  in  the  laboratory  and  the 
garden,  watching  her  father.  She  wrapped  the  wet 
cloth  round  her  hand  and  held  the  ladle  by  the  end. 

"  We  will  begin  with  the  one  on  the  right,  *  she 
said,  thrusting  the  instrument  through  the  aperture. 

Bringing  it  out  with  some  glass  in  it,  she  supported 
it  with  both  hands  as  she  went  quickly  to  the  iron 
table,  and  she  instantly  poured  out  the  stuff  and  began 
to  watch  it. 


212  MARIETTA 

"  It  is  just  what  you  had  the  other  day,"  she  said, 
as  the  glass  rapidly  cooled. 

Zorzi  was  seated  high  enough  to  look  over  the 
table. 

"  Another  failure,"  he  said.  "  It  is  always  the  same. 
We  have  scarcely  had  any  variation  in  the  tint  in  the 
last  week." 

"  That  is  not  your  fault,"  answered  Marietta.  "  We 
will  try  the  next." 

As  if  she  had  been  at  the  work  all  her  life,  she 
chilled  the  ladle  and  chipped  off  the  small  adhering 
bits  of  glass  from  it,  and  slipped  the  last  test  from  the 
table,  carrying  it  to  the  refuse  jar  with  tongs.  Once 
more  she  wrapped  the  damp  cloth  round  her  hand  and 
went  to  the  furnace.  The  middle  crucible  was  to  be 
tried  next.  Nella,  looking  on  with  nervous  anxiety, 
was  in  a  profuse  perspiration. 

"  I  believe  that  is  the  one  into  which  the  ladle  fell," 
said  Zorzi.  "  Yes,  I  am  quite  sure  of  it." 

Marietta  took  the  specimen  and  poured  it  out,  set 
down  the  ladle  on  the  brick  work,  and  watched  the 
cooling  glass,  expecting  to  see  what  she  had  often  seen 
before.  "  But  her  face  changed,  in  a  look  of  wonder 
and  delight. 

"  Zorzi  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Look  !  Look  I  See  what 
a  colour  !  " 

"I  cannot  see  well,"  he  answered,  straining  his  neck 
"  Wait   a    minute  I "  he   cried,   as    Marietta   took   the 
tongs.     "  I  see  now  !     We  have  got  it !     I  believe  we 
have  got  it  I     Oh,  if  I  could  only  walk  I  " 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  213 

"  Patience  —  you  shall  see  it.  It  is  almost  cool.  It 
is  quite  stiff  now." 

She  took  the  little  flat  cake  up  with  the  tongs,  very 
carefully,  and  held  it  before  his  eyes.  The  light  fell 
through  it  from  the  window,  and  her  head  was  close  to 
his,  as  they  both  looked  at  it  together. 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  colour,"  said  Zorzi,  his 
face  flushing  with  excitement. 

"There  never  was  such  a  colour  before,"  answered 
Marietta.  "  It  is  like  the  juice  of  a  ripe  pomegran- 
ate that  has  just  been  cut,  only  there  is  more  light  in 
it." 

"  It  is  like  a  great  ruby  —  the  rubies  that  the  jew- 
ellers call  'pigeon's  blood.'" 

"  My  father  always  said  it  should  be  blood-red,"  said 
Marietta.  "  But  I  thought  he  meant  something  differ- 
ent, something  more  scarlet." 

"  I  thought  so,  too.  What  they  call  pigeon's  blood 
is  not  the  colour  of  blood  at  all.  It  is  more  like  pome- 
granates, as  you  said  at  first.  But  this  is  a  marvellous 
thing.  The  master  will  be  pleased." 

Nella  came  and  looked  too,  convinced  that  the  glass 
had  in  some  way  turned  out  more  beautiful  by  the 
magic  of  her  mistress's  touch. 

"  It  is  a  miracle  !  "  cried  the  woman  of  the  people. 
"  Some  saint  must  have  made  this." 

The  glass  glowed  like  a  gem  and  seemed  to  give  out 
light  of  its  own.  As  Zorzi  and  Marietta  looked,  its 
rich  glow  spread  over  their  faces.  It  was  that  rare 
glass  which,  from  old  cathedral  windows,  casts  such  a 


214  MARIETTA 

deep  stain  upon  the  pavement  that  one  would  believe 
the  marble  itself  must  be  dyed  with  unchanging  colour. 

"  We  have  found  it  together,"  said  Marietta. 

Zorzi  looked  from  the  glass  to  her  face,  close  by  his, 
and  their  eyes  met  for  a  moment  in  the  strange  glow 
and  it  was  as  if  they  knew  each  other  in  another  world. 

"  Do  not  let  the  red  light  fall  on  your  faces,"  said 
Nella,  crossing  herself.  "  It  is  too  much  like  blood  — 
good  health  to  you,"  she  added  quickly  for  fear  of  evil. 

Marietta  lowered  her  hand  and  turned  the  piece  of 
glass  sideways,  to  see  how  it  would  look. 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  it  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  must 
not  be  left  any  longer  in  the  crucible." 

"No.  It  ought  to  be  taken  out  at  once.  Such  a 
colour  must  be  kept  for  church  windows.  If  I  were 
able  to  stand,  I  would  make  most  of  it  into  cylinders 
and  cut  them  while  hot.  There  are  men  who  can  do 
it,  in  the  glass-house.  But  the  master  does  not  want 
them  here." 

"  We  had  better  let  the  fires  go  out,"  said  Marietta. 
"  It  will  cool  in  the  crucible  as  it  is." 

"  I  would  give  anything  to  have  that  crucible  empty, 
or  an  empty  one  in  its  place,"  answered  Zorzi.  "  This 
is  a  great  discovery,  but  it  is  not  exactly  what  the 
master  expected.  I  have  an  idea  of  my  own,  which  I 
should  like  to  try." 

"  Then  we  must  empty  the  crucible.  There  is  no 
other  way.  The  glass  will  keep  its  colour,  whatever 
shape  we  give  it.  Is  there  much  of  it  ?  " 

"  There  may  be  twenty  or  thirty  pounds'  weight," 
answered  Zorzi.  "No  one  can  tell." 


A   MAID   OP   VENICE  215 

Nella  listened  in  mute  surprise.  She  had  never  seen 
Marietta  with  old  Beroviero,  and  she  was  amazed  to 
hear  her  young  mistress  talking  about  the  processes 
of  glass-making,  about  crucibles  and  cylinders  and 
ingredients  as  familiarly  as  of  domestic  things.  She 
suddenly  began  to  imagine  that  old  Beroviero,  who 
was  probably  a  magician  and  an  alchemist,  had  taught 
his  daughter  the  same  dangerous  knowledge,  and  she 
felt  a  sort  of  awe  before  the  two  young  people  who 
knew  such  a  vast  deal  which  she  herself  could  never 
know. 

She  asked  herself  what  was  to  become  of  this  won- 
derful girl,  half  woman  and  half  enchantress,  who 
brought  the  colour  of  the  saints'  blood  out  of  the 
white  flames,  and  understood  as  much  as  men  did  of 
the  art  which  was  almost  all  made  up  of  secrets. 
What  would  happen  when  she  was  the  wife  of  Jacopo 
Contarini,  shut  up  in  a  splendid  Venetian  palace  where 
there  were  no  glass  furnaces  to  amuse  her?  At  first 
she  would  languish  and  grow  pale,  thought  Nella,  but 
by  and  by  she  would  weave  spells  in  her  chamber 
which  would  bring  all  Venice  to  her  will,  and  turn 
it  all  to  gold  and  precious  stones  and  red  glass,  and 
the  people  to  fairies  subject  to  her  will,  her  husband, 
the  Council  of  Ten,  even  the  Doge  himself. 

Nella  roused  herself,  and  passed  her  hand  over  her 
eyes,  as  if  she  were  waking  from  a  dream.  And  indeed 
she  had  been  dreaming,  for  she  had  looked  too  long 
into  the  wonderful  depths  of  the  new  colour,  and  it 
had  dazed  her  wits. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ON  that  day  Marietta  felt  once  more  the  full  belief 
that  Zorzi  loved  her  ;  but  the  certainty  did  not  fill  her 
with  happiness  as  on  that  first  afternoon  when  she  had 
seen  him  stoop  to  pick  up  the  rose  she  had  dropped. 
The  time  that  had  seemed  so  very  distant  had  come 
indeed ;  instead  of  years,  a  week  had  scarcely  passed, 
and  it  was  not  by  letting  a  flower  fall  in  his  path  that 
she  had  told  him  her  love,  as  she  had  meant  to  do.  She 
had  done  much  more.  She  had  let  him  take  her  hand 
and  press  it  to  his  heart,  and  she  would  have  left  it 
there  if  Nella  had  not  passed  the  window;  she  had 
wished  him  to  take  it,  she  had  let  it  hang  by  her  side 
in  the  hope  that  he  would  be  bold  enough  to  do  so, 
and  she  had  thrilled  with  delight  at  his  touch;  she 
had  drawn  back  her  hand  when  the  woman  came,  and 
she  had  put  on  a  look  of  innocent  indifference  that 
would  have  deceived  one  of  the  Council's  own  spies. 
Could  any  language  have  been  more  plain  ? 

It  was  very  strange,  she  thought,  that  she  should  all 
at  once  have  gone  so  far,  that  she  should  have  felt  such 
undreamt  joy  at  the  moment  and  then,  when  it  was 
hers,  a  part  of  her  life  which  nothing  could  ever  undo 
nor  take  from  her,  it  was  stranger  still  that  the  re- 
membrance of  this  wonderful  joy  should  make  her  sud- 

216 


MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF  VENICE  217 

denly  sad  and  thoughtful,  that  she  should  lie  awake  at 
night,  wishing  that  it  had  never  been,  and  tormenting 
herself  with  the  idea  that  she  had  done  an  almost  irre- 
trievable wrong.  At  the  very  moment  when  the  com- 
ing day  was  breaking  upon  her  heart's  twilight,  a  wall 
of  darkness  arose  between  her  and  the  future. 

Much  that  is  very  good  and  true  in  the  world  is 
built  upon  the  fanciful  fears  of  evil  that  warn  girls' 
hearts  of  harm.  There  are  dangers  that  cannot  be 
exaggerated,  because  the  value  of  what  they  threaten 
cannot  be  reckoned  too  great,  so  long  as  human 
goodness  rests  on  the  dangerous  quicksands  of  human 
nature. 

Marietta  had  not  realised  what  it  meant  to  be  be- 
trothed to  Jacopo  Contarini,  until  she  had  let  her  hand 
linger  in  Zorzi's.  But  after  that,  one  hour  had  not 
passed  before  she  felt  that  she  was  living  between  two 
alternatives  that  seemed  almost  equally  terrible,  and 
of  which  she  must  choose  the  one  or  the  other  within 
two  months.  She  must  either  marry  Contarini  and 
never  see  Zorzi  again,  or  she  must  refuse  to  be  mar- 
ried and  face  the  tremendous  consequences  of  her 
unheard-of  wilfulness,  her  father's  anger,  the  just 
resentment  of  all  the  Contarini  family,  the  humilia- 
tion which  her  brothers  would  heap  upon  her,  because, 
in  the  code  of  those  days,  she  would  have  brought 
shame  on  them  and  theirs.  In  those  times  such  re- 
sults were  very  real  and  inevitable  when  a  girl's  formal 
promise  of  marriage  was  broken,  though  she  herself 
might  never  have  been  consulted. 


218  MARIETTA 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Marietta  was  sleepless  at 
night,  and  spent  long  hours  of  the  day  sitting  listless 
by  her  window  without  so  much  as  threading  a  score 
of  beads  from  the  little  basket  that  stood  beside  her. 
Nella  came  and  went  often,  looked  at  her,  and  shook 
her  head  with  a  wise  smile. 

"  It  is  the  thought  of  marriage,"  said  the  woman  of 
the  people  to  herself.  "  She  pines  and  grows  pale  now, 
because  she  is  thinking  that  she  must  leave  her  father's 
house  so  soon,  and  she  is  afraid  to  go  among  strangers. 
But  she  will  be  happy  by  and  by,  like  the  swallows  in 
spring." 

Nella  remembered  how  frightened  she  herself  had 
been  when  she  was  betrothed  to  her  departed  Vito, 
and  she  was  thereby  much  comforted  as  to  Marietta's 
condition.  But  she  said  nothing,  after  Marietta  had 
coldly  repelled  her  first  attempt  to  talk  of  the  mar- 
riage, though  she  forgave  her  mistress's  frigid  order  to 
be  silent,  telling  herself  that  no  right-minded  young 
girl  could  possibly  be  natural  and  sweet  tempered 
under  the  circumstances.  She  was  more  than  com- 
pensated for  what  might  have  seemed  harshness,  by 
something  that  looked  very  much  like  a  concession. 
Marietta  had  not  gone  back  to  the  laboratory  since  the 
discovery  of  the  new  glass,  and  a  week  had  passed  since 
then. 

Nella  went  every  other  day  and  did  all  that  was  nec- 
essary for  Zorzi's  recovery.  Each  time  she  came  he 
asked  her  about  Marietta,  in  a  rather  formal  tone,  as 
was  becoming  when  he  spoke  of  his  master's  daughter, 


A.  MAID  OF  VENICE  219 

but  hoping-  that  Nella  might  have  some  message  to 
deliver,  and  he  was  more  and  more  disappointed  as  he 
realised  that  Marietta  did  not  mean  to  send  him  any. 
She  had  gone  away  on  that  morning  with  a  sort  of 
intimation  that  she  would  come  back  every  day,  but 
Nella  did  not  so  much  as  hint  that  she  ever  meant  to 
come  back  at  all. 

Zorzi  went  about  on  crutches,  swinging  his  helpless 
foot  as  he  walked,  for  it  still  hurt  him  when  he  put  it 
to  the  ground.  He  was  pale  and  thin,  both  from  pain 
and  from  living  shut  up  almost  all  day  in  the  close 
atmosphere  of  the  laboratory.  For  a  change,  he  began 
to  come  out  into  the  little  garden,  sometimes  walking 
up  and  down  on  his  crutches  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  sitting  down  to  rest  on  the  bench  under  the 
plane-tree,  where  Marietta  had  so  often  sat.  Pasquale 
came  and  talked  with  him  sometimes,  but  Zorzi  never 
went  to  the  porter's  lodge. 

He  felt  that  if  he  got  as  far  as  that  he  should  inevi- 
tably open  the  door  and  look  up  at  Marietta's  window, 
and  he  would  not  do  it,  for  he  was  hurt  by  her  appar- 
ent indifference,  after  having  allowed  him  to  hold  her 
hand  in  his.  She  had  not  even  asked  through  Nella 
what  had  become  of  the  beautiful  glass.  What  he  pre- 
tended to  say  to  himself  was  that  it  would  be  very 
wrong  to  go  and  stand  outside  the  glass-house,  where 
the  porter  would  certainly  see  him,  and  where  he 
might  be  seen  by  any  one  else,  staring  at  the  window 
of  his  master's  daughter's  room  on  the  other  side  of  the 
canal.  But  what  he  really  felt  was  that  Marietta  had 


220  MAEIETTA 

treated  him  capriciously  and  that  if  he  had  a  particle  of 
self-respect  he  must  show  her  that  he  did  not  care. 
For  if  Marietta  was  very  like  other  carefully  brought, 
up  girls  of  her  age,  Zorzi  was  nothing  more  than  a 
boy  where  love  was  concerned,  and  like  many  boys 
who  have  struggled  for  existence  in  a  more  or  less 
corrupt  world,  he  had  heard  much  more  of  the  faith- 
lessness and  caprices  of  women  in  general  than  of  the 
sensitiveness  and  delicate  timidity  of  innocent  young 
girls. 

Marietta  was  his  perfect  ideal,  the  most  exquisite, 
the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  lovable  creature  ever 
endowed  with  form  and  sent  into  the  world  by  the 
powers  of  good.  He  believed  all  this  in  his  heart,  with 
the  certainty  of  absolute  knowledge.  But  he  was 
quite  incapable  of  discerning  the  motives  of  her  con- 
duct towards  him,  and  when  he  tried  to  understand 
them,  it  was  not  his  heart  that  felt,  but  his  reason  that 
argued,  having  very  little  knowledge  and  no  experi- 
ence at  all  to  help  it ;  and  since  his  erring  reason  de- 
monstrated something  that  offended  his  self-esteem,  his 
heart  was  hurt  and  nursed  a  foolish,  small  resentment 
against  what  he  truly  loved  better  than  life  itself.  At 
one  time  or  another  most  very  young  men  in  love  have 
found  themselves  in  that  condition,  and  have  tor* 
mented  themselves  to  the  verge  of  fever  and  distrac- 
tion over  imaginary  hurts  and  wrongs.  Was  there 
ever  a  true  lyric  poet  who  did  not  at  least  once  in  his 
early  days  believe  himself  the  victim  of  a  heartless 
woman  ?  And  though  long  afterwards  fate  may  have 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  221 

brought  him  face  to  face  with  the  tragedy  of  unhappy 
love,  fierce  with  passion  and  terrible  with  violent 
death,  can  he  ever  quite  forget  the  fancied  sufferings 
of  first  youth,  the  stab  of  a  thoughtless  girl's  first  un- 
kind word,  the  sickening  chill  he  felt  under  her  first 
cold  look?  And  what  would  first  love  be,  if  young 
men  and  maidens  came  to  it  with  all  the  reason  and 
cool  self -judgment  that  long  living  brings  ? 

Zorzi  sought  consolation  in  his  art,  and  as  soon  as  he 
could  stand  and  move  about  with  his  crutches  he  threw 
his  whole  pent-up  energy  into  his  work.  The  acci- 
dental discovery  of  the  red  glass  had  unexpectedly 
given  him  an  empty  crucible  with  which  to  make  an 
experiment  of  his  own,  and  while  the  materials  were 
fusing  he  attempted  to  obtain  the  new  colour  in  the 
other  two,  by  dropping  pieces  of  copper  into  each 
regardless  of  the  master's  instructions.  To  his  inex- 
pressible disappointment  he  completely  failed  in  this, 
and  the  glass  he  produced  was  of  the  commonest 
tint. 

Then  he  grew  reckless ;  he  removed  the  two  cruci- 
bles that  had  contained  what  had  been  made  according 
to  Beroviero's  theories  until  he  had  added  the  copper, 
and  he  began  afresh  according  to  his  own  belief. 

On  that  very  morning  Giovanni  Beroviero  made  a 
second  visit  to  the  laboratory.  He  came,  he  said,  to 
make  sure  that  Zorzi  was  recovering  from  his  hurt, 
and  Zorzi  knew  from  Nella  that  Giovanni  had  m$de 
inquiries  about  him.  He  put  on  an  air  of  sympathy 
when  he  saw  the  crutches. 


222  MARIETTA 

"  You  will  soon  throw  them  aside,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
am  sorry  that  you  should  have  to  use  them  at  all." 

When  he  entered,  Zorzi  was  introducing  a  new  mix- 
ture, carefully  powdered,  into  one  of  the  glass-pots 
with  a  small  iron  shovel.  It  was  clear  that  he  must 
put  it  all  in  at  once,  and  he  excused  himself  for  going 
on  with  his  work.  Giovanni  looked  at  the  large  quan- 
tity of  the  mixed  ingredients  with  an  experienced  eye, 
and  at  once  made  up  his  mind  that  the  crucible  must 
have  been  quite  empty.  Zorzi  was  therefore  beginning 
to  make  some  kind  of  glass  on  his  own  account.  It 
followed  almost  logically,  according  to  Giovanni's  view 
of  men,  fairly  founded  on  a  knowledge  of  himself,  that 
Zorzi  was  experimenting  with  the  secrets  of  Paolo 
Godi,  which  he  and  old  Beroviero  had  buried  together 
somewhere  in  that  very  room.  Now,  ever  since  the 
boy  had  told  his  story,  Giovanni  had  been  revolving 
plans  for  getting  the  manuscript  into  his  possession 
during  a  few  days,  in  order  to  copy  it.  A  new  scheme 
now  suggested  itself,  and  it  looked  so  attractive  that 
he  at  once  attempted  to  carry  it  out. 

"  It  seems  a  pity,"  he  said,  "  that  a  great  artist  like 
yourself  should  spend  time  on  fruitless  experiments. 
You  might  be  making  very  beautiful  things,  which 
would  sell  for  a  high  price." 

Without  desisting  from  his  occupation  Zorzi  glanced 
at  his  visitor,  whose  manner  towards  him  had  so  entirely 
changed  within  a  little  more  than  a  week.  With  a 
waif's  quick  instinct  he  guessed  that  Giovanni  wanted 
something  of  him,  but  the  generous  instinct  of  the 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  223 

brave  man  towards  the  coward  made  him  accept  what 
seemed  to  be  meant  for  an  advance  after  a  quarrel.  It 
had  never  occurred  to  Zorzi  to  blame  Giovanni  for 
the  accident  in  the  glass-house,  and  it  would  have  been 
very  unjust  to  do  so. 

"  I  can  blow  glass  tolerably,  sir,"  Zorzi  answered. 
"But  none  of  you  great  furnace  owners  would  dare 
to  employ  me,  in  the  face  of  the  law.  Besides,  I  am 
your  father's  man.  I  owe  everything  I  know  to  his 
kindness." 

"  I  do  not  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it,"  returned 
Giovanni ;  "  it  does  not  diminish  your  merit,  nor  affect 
the  truth  of  what  I  was  saying.  You  might  be  doing 
better  things.  Any  one  can  weigh  out  sand  and  kelp- 
ashes,  and  shovel  them  into  a  crucible  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  the  master  might  employ  me 
for  other  work  ?  "  asked  Zorzi,  smiling  at  the  disdainful 
description  of  what  he  was  doing. 

"My  father — or  some  one  else,"  answered  Giovanni. 
"And besides  your  astonishing  skill,  I  fancy  that  you 
possess  much  valuable  knowledge  of  glass-making. 
You  cannot  have  worked  for  my  father  so  many  years 
without  learning  some  of  the  things  he  has  taken  great 
pains  to  hide  from  his  own  sons." 

He  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  somewhat  bitter  tone, 
quite  willing  to  let  Zorzi  know  that  he  felt  himself 
injured. 

"  If  I  have  learned  anything  of  that  sort  by  looking 
on  and  helping,  when  I  have  been  trusted,  it  is  not 
mine  to  use  elsewhere,"  said  Zorzi,  rather  proudly. 


224  MARIETTA 

"That  is  a  fine  moral  sentiment,  my  dear  young 
friend,  and  does  you  credit,"  replied  Giovanni  senten- 
tiously.  "It  is  impossible  not  to  respect  a  man  who 
carries  a  fortune  in  his  head  and  refuses  to  profit  by 
it  out  of  a  delicate  sense  of  honour." 

"  I  should  have  very  little  respect  for  a  man  who  be- 
trayed his  master's  secrets,"  said  Zorzi. 

"  You  know  them  then  ? "  inquired  the  other  with 
unusual  blandness. 

"  I  did  not  say  so."    Zorzi  looked  at  him  coldly. 

"  Oh  no  !  Even  to  admit  it  might  not  be  discreet, 
But  apart  from  Paolo  Godi's  secrets,  which  my  father 
has  left  sealed  in  my  care  —  " 

At  this  astounding  falsehood  Zorzi  started  and  looked 
at  Giovanni  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

"  —  but  which  nothing  would  induce  me  to  examine," 
continued  Giovanni  with  perfect  coolness,  "  there  must 
be  many  others  of  my  father's  own,  which  you  have 
learned  by  watching  him.  I  respect  you  for  your  dis- 
cretion. Why  did  you  start  and  look  at  me  when  I 
said  that  the  manuscript  was  in  my  keeping  ?  " 

The  question  was  well  put,  suddenly  and  without 
warning,  and  Zorzi  was  momentarily  embarrassed  to 
find  an  answer.  Giovanni  judged  that  his  surprise 
proved  the  truth  of  the  boy's  story,  and  his  embarrass- 
ment now  added  certainty  to  the  proof.  But  Zorzi 
rarely  lost  his  self-possession  when  he  had  a  secret  to 
keep. 

"  If  I  seemed  astonished,"  he  said,  "  it  may  have  been 
because  you  had  just  given  me  the  impression  that  the 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  225 

master  did  not  trust  you,  and  I  know  how  careful  he  is 
of  the  manuscript." 

"  You  know  more  than  that,  my  friend,"  said  Gio- 
vanni in  a  playful  tone. 

Zorzi  had  now  filled  the  crucible  and  was  replacing 
the  clay  rings  which  narrow  the  aperture  of  the  4  bocca.' 
He  plastered  more  wet  clay  upon  them,  and  it  pleased 
Giovanni  to  see  how  well  he  knew  every  detail  of  the 
art,  from  the  simplest  to  the  most  difficult  operations. 

"  Would  anything  you  can  think  of  induce  you  to 
leave  my  father  ?  "  Giovanni  asked,  as  he  had  received 
no  answer  to  his  last  remark.  "  Of  course,  I  do  not 
mean  to  speak  of  mere  money,  though  few  people  quite 
despise  it." 

"That  may  be  understood  in  more  than  one  way," 
answered  Zorzi  cautiously.  "In  the  first  place,  do 
you  mean  that  if  I  left  the  master,  it  would  be  to  go 
to  another  master,  or  to  set  up  as  a  master  nryself  ?  " 

"  Let  us  say  that  you  might  go  to  another  glass-house 
for  a  fixed  time,  with  the  promise  of  then  having  a  fur- 
nace of  your  own.  How  does  that  strike  you  ?  " 

"  No  one  can  give  such  a  promise  and  keep  it,"  said 
Zorzi,  scraping  the  wet  clay  from  his  hands  with  a 
blunt  knife. 

"  But  suppose  that  some  one  could,"  insisted  Giovanni. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  supposing  the  impossible  ? " 
Zorzi  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  on  scraping. 

*'  Nothing  is  impossible  in  the  Republic,  except  what 
the  Ten  are  resolved  t*>  hinder.  And  that  is  really 
impossible."  I  '• 

Q  *  i 


226  MARIETTA 

"The  Ten  will  not  make  new  laws  nor  repeal  old 
ones  for  the  benefit  of  an  unknown  Dalmatian." 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  Giovanni.  "But  on  the 
other  hand  there  is  no  very  great  penalty  if  you  set 
up  a  furnace  of  your  own.  If  you  are  discovered, 
your  furnace  will  be  put  out,  and  you  may  have  to 
pay  a  fine.  It  is  no  great  matter.  It  is  a  civil  offence, 
not  a  criminal  one." 

"  What  is  it  that  you  wish  of  me  ? "  asked  Zorzi 
with  sudden  directness.  "  You  are  a  busy  man.  You 
have  not  come  here  to  pass  a  morning  in  idle  conver- 
sation with  your  father's  assistant.  You  want  some- 
thing of  me,  sir.  Speak  out  plainly.  If  I  can  do 
what  you  wish,  I  will  do  it.  If  I  cannot,  I  will  tell 
you  so,  frankly." 

Giovanni  was  a  little  disconcerted  by  this  speech. 
Excepting  where  money  was  concerned  directly,  his 
intelligence  was  of  the  sort  that  easily  wastes  its  en- 
ergy in  futile  cunning.  He  had  not  meant  to  reach 
the  point  for  a  long  time,  if  he  had  expected  to  reach 
it  at  all  at  a  first  attempt. 

"  I  like  your  straightforwardness,"  he  said  evasively. 
"  But  I  do  not  think  your  conversation  idle.  On  the 
contrary,  I  find  it  highly  instructive." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  Zorzi  laughed.  "  You  do  me  much 
honour,  sir !  What  have  you  learned  from  me  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  What  I  wished  to  know,"  answered  Giovanni  with 
a  change  of  tone,  and  looking  at  him  keenly. 

Zorzi  returned  the  glance,  and  the  two  men  faced 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  227 

each  other  in  silence  for  a  moment.  Zorzi  knew  what 
Giovanni  meant,  as  soon  as  the  other  had  spoken.  The 
quick  movement  of  surprise,  which  was  the  only  indis- 
cretion of  which  Zorzi  had  been  guilty,  would  have 
betrayed  to  any  one  that  he  knew  where  the  manu- 
script was,  even  if  it  were  not  in  his  immediate  keep- 
ing. His  instinct  was  to  take  the  offensive  and  accuse 
his  visitor  of  having  laid  a  trap  for  him,  but  his  caution 
prevailed. 

"Whatever  you  may  think  that  you  have  learned 
from  me,"  he  said,  "remember  that  I  have  told  you 
nothing." 

"  Is  it  here,  in  this  room  ?  "  asked  Giovanni,  not  heed- 
ing his  last  speech,  and  hoping  to  surprise  him  again. 

But  he  was  prepared  now,  and  his  face  did  not 
change  as  he  replied. 

"  I  cannot  answer  any  questions,"  he  said. 

"  You  and  my  father  hid  it  together,"  returned  Gio- 
vanni. "When  you  had  buried  it  under  the  stones 
in  this  room,  you  carried  the  earth  out  with  a  shovel 
and  scattered  it  about  on  a  flower-bed.  You  took  out 
three  shovelfuls  of  earth  in  that  way.  You  see,  I 
know  everything.  What  is  the  use  of  trying  to  hide 
your  secret  from  me?" 

Zorzi  was  now  convinced  that  Giovanni  himself  had 
been  lurking  in  the  garden. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  with  ill-concealed  contempt  for  a  man 
capable  of  such  spy's  work,  "  if  you  have  more  to  say 
of  the  same  nature,  pray  say  it  to  your  father,  when 
he  comes  back." 


228  MARIETTA 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  returned  Giovanni  with 
sudden  mildness.  "  I  had  no  intention  of  offending 
you.  I  only  meant  to  warn  you  that  you  were  watched 
on  that  night.  The  person  who  informed  me  has  no 
doubt  told  many  others  also.  It  would  have  been  very 
ill  for  you,  if  my  father  had  returned  to  find  that  his 
secret  was  public  property,  and  if  you  had  been  unable 
to  explain  that  you  had  not  betrayed  him.  I  have 
given  you  a  weapon  of  defence.  You  may  call  upon 
me  to  repeat  what  I  have  said,  when  you  speak  with 
him." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  Zorzi  coldly.  "I 
shall  not  need  to  disturb  you." 

"You  are  not  wise,"  returned  Giovanni  gravely. 
"  If  I  were  curious  —  fortunately  for  you  I  am  not  !  — 
I  would  send  for  a  mason  and  have  some  of  the  stones 
of  the  pavement  turned  over  before  me.  A  mason 
would  soon  find  the  one  you  moved  by  trying  them  all 
with  his  hammer." 

"  Yes,"  said  Zorzi.  "  If  this  were  a  room  in  your 
own  glass-house,  you  could  do  that.  But  it  is  not." 

"  I  am  in  charge  of  all  that  belongs  to  my  father, 
during  his  absence,"  answered  Giovanni. 

"  Yes,"  said  Zorzi  again.  "  Including  Paolo  Godi's 
manuscript,  as  you  told  me,"  he  added. 

"  You  understand  very  well  why  I  said  that,"  Gio- 
vanni answered,  with  visible  annoyance. 

"I  only  know  that  you  said  it,"  was  the  retort. 
"  And  as  I  cannot  suppose  that  you  did  not  know  what 
you  were  saying,  still  less  that  you  intentionally  told 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  229 

an  untruth,  I  really  cannot  see  why  you  should  suggest 
bringing  a  mason  here  to  search  for  what  must  be  in 
your  own  keeping." 

Zorzi  spoke  with  a  quiet  smile,  for  he  felt  that  he 
had  the  best  of  it.  He  was  surprised  when  Giovanni 
broke  into  a  peal  of  rather  affected  laughter. 

"  You  are  hard  to  catch  1  "  he  cried,  and  laughed 
again.  "You  did  not  really  suppose  that  I  was  in 
earnest  ?  Why,  every  one  knows  that  you  have  the 
manuscript  here." 

"Then  I  suppose  you  spoke  ironically,"  suggested 
Zorzi. 

"  Of  course,  of  course  I  A  mere  jest  !  If  I  had 
known  that  you  would  take  it  so  literally  — "  he 
stopped  short. 

"Pray  excuse  me,  sir.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have 
ever  heard  you  say  anything  playful." 

"  Indeed  !  The  fact  is,  my  dear  Zorzi,  I  never  knew 
you  well  enough  to  jest  with  you,  till  to-day.  Paolo 
Godi's  secrets  in  my  keeping  ?  I  wish  they  were  ! 
Oh,  'not  that  anything  would  induce  me  to  break  the 
seals.  I  told  you  that.  But  I  wish  they  were  in  my 
possession.  I  tell  you,  I  would  pay  down  half  my 
fortune  to  have  them,  for  they  would  bring  me  back 
four  times  as  much  within  the  year.  Half  my  fortune  1 
And  I  am  not  poor,  Zorzi." 

"  Half  your  fortune  ?  "  repeated  Zorzi.  "  That  is  a 
large  sum,  I  imagine.  Praj^,  sir,  how  much  might  half 
your  fortune  be,  in  round  numbers?  Ten  thousand 
silver  lires?" 


230  MARIETTA 

"  Silver  !  "  sneered  Giovanni  contemptuously. 

"  Gold,  then  ?  "  suggested  Zorzi,  drawing  him  on. 

"Gold?  Well —  possibly,"  admitted  Giovanni  with 
caution.  "But  of  course  I  was  exaggerating.  Ten 
thousand  gold  pounds  would  be  too  much,  of  course. 
Say,  five  thousand." 

"  I  thought  you  were  richer  than  that,"  said  Zorzi 
coolly. 

"Do  you  mean  that  five  thousand  would  not  be 
enough  to  pay  for  the  manuscript?"  asked  Giovanni. 

"The  profits  of  glass-making  are  very  large  when 
one  possesses  a  valuable  secret,"  said  Zorzi.  "  Five 
thousand  —  "  He  paused,  as  though  in  doubt,  or  as  if 
making  a  mental  calculation.  Giovanni  fell  into  the 
trap. 

"  I  would  give  six,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice  to  a 
still  more  confidential  tone,  and  watching  his  com- 
panion eagerly. 

"  For  six  thousand  gold  lires,"  said  Zorzi,  smiling, 
"  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  could  hire  a  ruffian  to  break 
in  and  cut  the  throat  of  the  man  who  has  charge  of  the 
manuscript." 

Giovanni's  face  fell,  but  he  quickly  assumed  an 
expression  of  righteous  indignation. 

"  How  can  you  dare  to  suggest  that  I  would  employ 
such  means  to  rob  my  father  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  If  it  were  your  intention  to  rob  your  father,  sir,  I 
cannot  see  that  it  would  matter  greatly  what  means 
you  employed.  But  I  was  only  jesting,  as  you  were 
when  you  said  that  you  had  the  manuscript.  I  did 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  231 

not  expect  that  you  would  take  literally  what  I 
said." 

"I  see,  I  see,"  answered  Giovanni,  accepting  the 
means  of  escape  Zorzi  offered  him.  "  You  were  paying 
me  back  in  my  own  coin  I  Well,  well !  It  served  me 
right,  after  all.  You  have  a  ready  wit." 

"  I  thought  that  if  my  conversation  were  not  as 
instructive  as  you  had  hoped,  I  could  at  least  try  to 
make  it  amusing  —  light,  gay,  witty  !  I  trust  you  will 
not  take  it  ill." 

"Not  I !"  Giovanni  tried  to  laugh.  "But  what  a 
wonderful  thing  is  this  human  imagination  of  ours  I 
Now,  as  I  talked  of  the  secrets,  I  forgot  that  they  were 
my  father's,  they  seemed  almost  within  my  grasp,  I  was 
ready  to  count  out  the  gold,  to  count  out  six  thousand 
gold  lires.  Think  of  that !  " 

"  They  are  worth  it,"  said  Zorzi  quietly. 

"  You  should  know  best,"  answered  the  other. 
"  There  is  no  such  glass  as  my  father's  for  lightness 
and  strength.  If  he  had  a  dozen  workmen  like  you, 
my  brother  and  I  should  be  ruined  in  trying  to  com- 
pete with  him.  I  watched  you  very  closely  the  other 
day,  and  I  watched  the  others,  too.  By  the  bye,  my 
friend,  was  that  really  an  accident,  or  does  the  man  owe 
you  some  grudge  ?  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  happen 
before !  " 

"  It  was  an  accident,  of  course,"  replied  Zorzi  with- 
out hesitation. 

"  If  you  knew  that  the  man  had  injured  you  in- 
tentionally, you  should  have  justice  at  once,"  said 


232  MARIETTA 

Giovanni.  "  As  it  is,  I  have  no  doubt  that  my  father 
will  turn  him  out  without  mercy." 

'"  I  hope  not."     Zorzi  would  say  nothing  more. 

Giovanni  rose  to  go  away.  He  stood  still  a  moment 
in  thought,  and  then  smiled  suddenly  as  if  recollecting 
himself. 

"  The  imagination  is  an  extraordinary  thing  !  "  he 
said,  going  back  to  the  past  conversation.  "  At  this 
very  moment  I  was  thinking  again  that  I  was  actually 
paying  out  the  money — six  thousand  lires  in  gold! 
I  must  be  mad !  " 

"  No,"  said  Zorzi.     "  I  think  not." 

Giovanni  turned  away,  shaking  his  head  and  still 
smiling.  To  tell  the  truth,  though  he  knew  Zorzi's 
character,  he  had  not  believed  that  any  one  could 
refuse  such  a  bribe,  and  he  was  trying  to  account  for 
the  Dalmatian's  integrity  by  reckoning  up  the  expecta- 
tions the  young  man  must  have,  to  set  against  such  a 
large  sum  of  ready  money.  He  could  only  find  one 
solution  to  the  problem  :  Zorzi  was  already  in  full  pos- 
session of  the  secrets,  and  would  therefore  not  sell 
them  at  any  price,  because  he  hoped  before  long  to  set 
up  for  himself  and  make  his  own  fortune  by  them.  If 
this  were  true,  and  he  could  not  see  how  it  could  be 
otherwise,  he  and  his  brother  would  be  cheated  of 
their  heritage  when  their  father  died. 

It  was  clear  that  something  must  be  done  to  hinder 
Zorzi  from  carrying  out  his  scheme.  After  all,  Zorzi's 
own  jesting  proposal,  that  a  ruffian  should  be  employed 
to  cut  his  throat,  was  not  to  be  rejected.  It  was  a 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  233 

simple  plan,  direct  and  conclusive.  It  might  not  be 
possible  to  find  the  manuscript  after  all,  but  the  only 
man  who  knew  its  contents  would  be  removed,  and 
Beroviero's  sons  would  inherit  what  should  come  to 
them  by  right.  Against  this  project  there  was  the 
danger  that  the  murderer  might  some  day  betray 
the  truth,  under  torture,  or  might  come  back  again  and 
again,  and  demand  more  money  ;  but  the  killing  of  a 
man  who  was  not  even  a  Venetian,  who  was  an  inter- 
loper, who  could  be  proved  to  have  abused  his  master's 
confidence,  when  he  should  be  no  longer  alive  to  de- 
fend himself,  did  not  strike  Giovanni  as  a  very  serious 
matter,  and  as  for  any  one  ever  forcing  him  to  pay 
money  which  he  did  not  wish  to  pay,  he  knew  that  to 
be  a  feat  beyond  the  ability  of  an  ordinary  person. 

One  other  course  suggested  itself  at  once.  He  could 
forestall  Zorzi  by  writing  to  his  father  and  telling  him 
what  he  sincerely  believed  to  be  the  truth.  He  knew 
the  old  man  well,  and  was  sure  that  if  once  persuaded 
that  Zorzi  had  betrayed  him  by  using  the  manuscript,  he 
would  be  merciless.  The  difficulty  would  lie  in  making 
Beroviero  believe  anything  against  his  favourite.  Yet 
in  Giovanni's  estimation  the  proofs  were  overwhelming. 
Besides,  he  had  another  weapon  with  which  to  rouse 
his  father's  anger  against  the  Dalmatian.  Since  Mari- 
etta had  defied  him  and  had  gone  to  see  Zorzi  in  the 
laboratory,  he  had  not  found  what  he  considered  a  con- 
venient opportunity  of  speaking  to  her  on  the  subject ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  had  lacked  the  moral  courage  to  do  so 
at  all.  But  it  would  need  no  courage  to  complain  of 


234  MARIETTA 

her  conduct  to  their  father,  and  though  Beroviero's 
anger  might  fall  chiefly  upon  Marietta,  a  portion  of  it 
would  take  effect  against  Zorzi.  It  would  be  one  more 
force  acting  in  the  direction  of  his  ruin. 

Giovanni  went  away  to  his  own  glass-house,  meditat- 
ing all  manner  of  evil  to  his  enemy,  and  as  he  reckoned 
up  the  chances  of  success,  he  began  to  wonder  how  he 
could  have  been  so  weak  as  to  offer  Zorzi  an  enormous 
bribe,  instead  of  proceeding  at  once  to  his  destruction. 

Unconscious  of  his  growing  danger,  Zorzi  fed  the 
fire  of  the  furnace,  and  then  sat  down  at  the  table 
before  the  window,  laid  his  crutches  beside  him,  and 
began  to  write  out  the  details  of  his  own  experiments, 
as  the  master  had  done  for  years.  He  wrote  the  rather 
elaborate  characters  of  the  fifteenth  century  in  a  small 
but  clear  hand,  very  unlike  old  Beroviero's.  The  win- 
dow was  open,  and  the  light  breeze  blew  in,  fanning 
his  heated  forehead;  for  the  weather  was  growing 
hotter  and  hotter,  and  the  order  had  been  given  to 
let  the  main  furnaces  cool  after  the  following  Satur- 
day, as  the  workmen  could  not  bear  the  heat  many 
days  longer.  After  that,  they  would  set  to  work  in 
a  shed  at  the  back  of  the  glass-house  to  knead  the 
clay  for  making  new  crucibles,  and  the  night  boys 
would  enjoy  their  annual  holiday,  which  consisted  in 
helping  the  workmen  by  treading  the  stiff  clay  in  water 
for  several  hours  every  day. 

A  man's  shadow  darkened  the  window  while  Zorzi 
was  writing,  and  he  looked  up.  Pasquale  was  stand- 
ing outside. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  235 

"  There  is  a  pestering  fellow  at  the  door,"  he  said, 
"  who  will  not  be  satisfied  till  he  has  spoken  with  you. 
He  says  he  has  a  message  for  you  from  some  one  in 
Venice,  which  he  must  deliver  himself." 

"  For  me  ?  "     Zorzi  rose  in  surprise. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

ZORZI  swung  himself  along  the  dark  corridor  on  his 
crutches  after  Pasquale,  who  opened  the  outer  door 
with  his  usual  deliberation.  A  little  man  stood  out- 
side in  grey  hose  and  a  servant's  dark  coat,  gathered 
in  at  the  waist  by  a  leathern  belt.  He  was  clean 
shaven  and  his  hair  was  cropped  close  to  his  head, 
which  was  bare,  for  he  held  his  black  hat  in  his  hand. 
Zorzi  did  not  like  his  face.  He  waited  for  Zorzi  to 
speak  first. 

"Have  you  a  message  for  me?"  asked  the  Dalma- 
tian. "I  am  Zorzi." 

"  That  is  the  name,  sir,"  answered  the  man  respect- 
fully. "My  master  begs  the  honour  and  pleasure  of 
your  company  this  evening,  as  usual." 

"Where?"  asked  Zorzi. 

"  My  master  said  that  you  would  know  the  place,  sir, 
having  been  there  before." 

"  What  is  your  master's  name  ? " 

"  The  Angel,"  answered  the  man  promptly,  keeping 
his  eyes  on  Zorzi's  face. 

The  latter  nodded,  and  the  servant  at  once  made  an 
awkward  obeisance  preparatory  to  going  away. 

"  Tell  your  master,"  said  Zorzi,  "  that  I  have  hurt  my 
foot  and  am  walking  on  crutches,  so  that  I  cannot 

236 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF   VENICE  237 

come  this  evening,  but  that  I  thank  him  for  his  invi- 
tation, and  send  greeting  to  him  and  to  the  other 
guests." 

The  man  repeated  some  of  the  words  in  a  tone  hardly 
audible,  evidently  committing  the  message  to  memory. 

"Signor  Zorzi — hurt  his  foot  —  crutches  —  thanks 
—  greeting,"  he  mumbled.  "  Yes,  sir,"  he  added  in 
his  ordinary  voice,  "  I  will  say  all  that.  Your  ser- 
vant, sir." 

With  another  awkward  bow,  he  turned  away  to  the 
right  and  walked  very  quickly  along  the  footway. 
He  had  left  his  boat  at  the  entrance  to  the  canal,  not 
knowing  exactly  where  the  glass-house  was.  Zorzi 
looked  after  him  a  moment,  then  turned  himself  on 
his  sound  foot  and  set  his  crutches  before  him  to  go 
in.  Pasquale  was  there,  and  must  have  heard  what 
had  passed.  He  shut  the  door  and  followed  Zorzi 
back  a  little  way. 

"  It  is  no  concern  of  mine,"  he  said  roughly.  "  You 
may  amuse  yourself  as  you  please,  for  you  are  young, 
and  your  host  may  be  the  Archangel  Michael  himself, 
or  the  holy  Saint  Mark,  and  the  house  to  which  you 
are  bidden  may  be  a  paradise  full  of  other  angels ! 
But  I  would  as  soon  sit  down  before  the  grating  and 
look  at  the  hooded  brother,  while  the  executioner 
slipped  the  noose  over  my  head  to  strangle  me,  as  to 
go  to  any  place  on  a  bidding  delivered  by  a  fellow  with 
such  a  jail-bird's  head.  It  is  as  round  as  a  bullet  and 
as  yellow  as  cheese.  He  has  eyes  like  a  turtle's  and 
teeth  like  those  of  a  young  shark." 


238  MARIETTA 

•"  I  ain  quite  of  your  opinion,"  said  Zorzi,  halting  at 
the  entrance  to  the  garden. 

"  Then  why  did  you  not  kick  him  into  the  canal  ?  " 
inquired  the  porter,  with  admirable  logic; 

"  Do  I  look  as  if  I  could  kick  anything  ? "  asked 
Zorzi,  laughing  and  glancing  at  his  lame  foot. 

"  And  where  should  I  have  been  ? "  inquired  Pas- 
quale  indignantly.  "Asleep,  perhaps?  If  you  had 
said  'kick,'  I  would  have  kicked.  Perhaps  I  am  a 
statue  ! " 

Zorzi  pointed  out  that  it  was  riot  usual  to  answer 
invitations  in  that  way,  even  when  declining  them. 

"And  who  knows  what  sort  of  invitation  it  was?" 
retorted  the  old  porter  discontentedly.  "Since  when 
have  you  friends  in  Venice  who  bid  you  come  to  their 
houses  at  night,  like  a  thief?  Honest  men,  who  are 
friends,  say  4  Come  and  eat  with  me  at  noon,  for  to-day 
we  have  this,  or  this' —  say,  a  roast  sucking  pig,  or 
tripe  with  garlic.  And  perhaps  you  go;  and  when 
you  have  eaten  and  drunk  and  it  is  the  cool  of  the 
afternoon,  you  come  home.  That  is  what  Christians 
do.  Who  are  they  that  meet  at  night?  They  are 
thieves,  or  conspirators,  or  dice-players,  or  all  three." 

Pasquale  happened  to  have  been  right  in  two  guesses 
out  of  three,  and  Zorzi  thought  it  better  to  say  noth- 
ing. There  was  no  fear  that  the  surly  old  man  would 
tell  any  one  of  the  message ;  he  had  proved  himself  too 
good  a  friend  to  Zorzi  to  do  anything  which  could  pos- 
sibly bring  him  into  trouble,  and  Zorzi  was  willing  to 
let  him  think  what  he  pleased,  rather  than  run  the 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  239 

smallest  risk  of  betraying  the  society  of  which  he  had 
been  obliged  to  become  a  member.  But  he  was  curious 
to  know  why  Contarini  kept  such  a  singularly  unpre- 
possessing servant,  and  why,  if  he  chose  to  keep  him, 
he  made  use  of  him  to  deliver  invitations.  The  fellow 
had  the  look  of  a  born  criminal ;  he  was  just  such  a 
man  as  Zorzi  had  thought  of  when  he  had  jestingly  pro- 
posed to  Giovanni  to  hire  a  murderer.  Indeed,  the 
more  Zorzi  thought  of  his  face,  the  more  he  was  in- 
clined to  doubt  that  the  man  came  from  Contarini  at 
all. 

But  in  this  he  was  mistaken.  The  message  was 
genuine,  and  moreover,  so  far  as  Contarini  and  the 
society  were  concerned,  the  man  was  perfectly  trust- 
worthy. Possibly  there  were  reasons  why  Contarini 
chose  to  employ  him,  and  also  why  the  servant  was  so 
consistently  faithful  to  his  master.  After  all,  Zorzi 
reflected,  he  was  certainly  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the 
noble  young  idlers  who  met  at  the  house  of  the  Agnus 
Dei  were  playing  at  conspiracy  and  revolution. 

But  that  night,  when  Contarini's  friends  were  assexn, 
bled  and  had  counted  their  members,  some  one  asked 
what  had  become  of  the  Murano  glass-blower,  and 
whether  he  was  not  going  to  attend  their  meetings  in 
future  ;  and  Contarini  answered  that  Zorzi  had  hurt 
his  foot  and  was  on  crutches,  and  sent  a  greeting  to  the 
guests.  Most  of  them  were  glad  that  he  was  not  there, 
for  he  was  not  of  their  own  order,  and  his  presence 
caused  a  certain  restraint  in  their  talk.  Besides,  he 
was  poor,  and  did  not  play  at  dice. 


240  MARIETTA 

"  He  works  with  Angelo  Beroviero,  does  he  not  ?  * 
asked  Zuan  Venier  in  a  tone  of  weary  indifference. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Contarini  with  a  laugh.  "  He  is 
in  the  service  of  my  future  father-in-law." 

"  To  whom  may  heaven  accord  a  speedy,  painless  and 
Christian  death  !  "  laughed  Foscari  in  his  black  beard. 

"Not  till  I  am  one  of  his  heirs,  if  you  please," 
returned  Contarini.  "  As  soon  after  the  wedding  day 
as  you  like,  for  besides  her  rich  dowry,  the  lady  is  to 
have  a  share  of  his  inheritance." 

"Is  she  very  ugly  ?  "  asked  Loredan.  "  Poor  Jacopo  ! 
You  have  the  sympathy  of  the  brethren." 

"  How  does  he  know  ?  "  sneered  Mocenigo.  "  He 
has  never  seen  her.  Besides,  why  should  he  care,  since 
she  is  rich  ?  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,  for  I  have  seen  her,"  said  Con- 
tarini, looking  down  the  table.  "She  is  not  at  all  ill- 
looking,  I  assure  you.  The  old  man  was  so  much 
afraid  that  I  would  not  agree  to  the  match  that  he  took 
her  to  church  so  that  I  might  look  at  her." 

"  And  you  did  ?  "  asked  Mocenigo.  "  I  should  never 
have  had  the  courage.  She  might  have  been  hideous, 
and  in  that  case  I  should  have  preferred  not  to  find  it 
out  till  I  was  married." 

"  I  looked  at  her  with  some  interest,"  said  Contarini, 
smiling  in  a  self-satisfied  way.  "  I  am  bound  to  say, 
with  all  modesty,  that  she  also  looked  at  me,"  he  added, 
passing  his  white  hand  over  his  thick  hair. 

"Of  course,"  put  in  Foscari  gravely.  "Any 
woman  would,  I  should  think," 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  241 

"I  suppose  so,"  answered  Contarini  complacently. 
"  It  is  not  my  fault  if  they  do." 

"Nor  your  misfortune,"  added  Foscari,  with  as 
much  gravity  as  before. 

Zuan  Venier  had  not  joined  in  the  banter,  which 
seemed  to  him  to  be  of  the  most  atrocious  taste. 
He  had  liked  Zorzi  and  had  just  made  up  his  mind 
to  go  to  Murano  the  next  day  and  find  him  out. 

On  that  evening  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  men- 
tion of  what  was  supposed  to  bring  them  together. 
Before  they  had  talked  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  some 
one  began  to  throw  dice  on  the  table,  playing  with 
his  right  hand  against  his  left,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  real  play  had  begun. 

High  up  in  Arisa's  room  the  Georgian  woman 
and  Aristarchi  heard  all  that  was  said,  crouching 
together  upon  the  floor  beside  the  opening  the  slave 
had  discovered.  When  the  voices  were  no  longer 
heard  except  at  rare  intervals,  in  short  exclamations 
of  satisfaction  or  disappointment,  and  only  the  reg- 
ular rattling  and  falling  of  the  dice  broke  the  silence, 
the  pair  drew  back  from  the  praying-stool. 

"  They  will  say  nothing  more  to-night,"  whispered 
Arisa.  "  They  will  play  for  hours.  ' 

"They  had  not  said  a  word  that  could  put  their 
necks  in  danger,"  answered  Aristarchi  discontentedly. 
"Who  is  this  fellow  from  the  glass-house,  of  whom 
they  were  speaking  ?  " 

Arisa  led  him  away  to  a  small  divan  between 
the  open  windows.  She  sat  down  against  the  cush- 
R 


242  MARIETTA 

ions  at  the  back,  but  he  stretched  his  bulk  upon 
the  floor,  resting  his  head  against  her  knee.  She 
softly  rubbed  his  rough  hair  with  the  palm  of  her 
hand,  as  she  might  have  caressed  a  cat,  or  a  tame 
wild  animal.  It  gave  her  a  pleasant  sensation  that 
had  a  thrill  of  danger  in  it,  for  she  always  expected 
that  he  would  turn  and  set  his  teeth  into  her  fingers. 

She  told  him  the  story  of  the  last  meeting,  and 
how  Zorzi  had  been  made  one  of  the  society  in 
order  that  they  might  not  feel  obliged  to  kill  him 
for  their  own  safety. 

"  What  fools  they  are  I "  exclaimed  Aristarchi 
with  a  low  laugh,  and  turning  his  head  under  her 
hand. 

"You  would  have  killed  him,  of  course,"  said 
Arisa,  "if  you  had  been  in  their  place.  I  suppose 
you  have  killed  many  people,"  she  added  thought- 
fully. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  for  though  he  loved  her 
savagely,  he  did  not  trust  her.  "  I  never  killed  any 
one  except  in  fair  fight." 

Arisa  laughed  low,  for  she  remembered. 

"When  I  first  saw  you,"  she  said,  "your  hands 
were  covered  with  blood.  I  think  the  reason  why 
I  liked  you  was  that  you  seemed  so  much  more 
terrible  than  all  the  others  who  looked  in  at  my  cabin 
door." 

"I  am  as  mild  as  milk  and  almonds,"  said 
Aristarchi.  "I  am  as  timid  as  a  rabbit." 

His   deep   voice   was   like   the    purring   of   a   huge 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  243 

cat.  Arisa  looked  down  at  his  head.  Then  her 
hands  suddenly  clasped  his  throat  and  she  tried  to 
make  her  fingers  meet  round  it  as  if  she  would  have 
strangled  him,  but  it  was  too  big  for  them.  He 
drew  in  his  chin  a  little,  the  iron  muscles  stiffened 
themselves,  the  cords  stood  out,  and  though  she 
pressed  with  all  her  might  she  could  not  hurt  him, 
even  a  little  ;  but  she  loved  to  try. 

"  I  am  sure  I  could  strangle  Contarini,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  He  has  a  throat  like  a  woman's." 

"  What  a  murderous  creature  you  are  I  "  purred  the 
Greek,  against  her  knee.  "  You  are  always  talking1  of 
killing." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  fighting  for  your  life,"  she 
answered,  "or  for  me." 

"  It  is  the  same  thing,"  he  said. 

"I  should  like  to  see  it.  It  would  be  a  splendid 
sight." 

"  What  if  I  got  the  worst  of  it  ? "  asked  Aristarchi, 
his  vast  mouth  grinning  at  the  idea. 

"You?"  Arisa  laughed  contemptuously.  "The 
man  is  not  born  who  could  kill  you.  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  One  very  nearly  succeeded,  once  upon  a  time," 
said  Aristarchi. 

"  One  man  ?     I  do  not  believe  it !  " 

"He  chanced  to  be  an  executioner,"  answered  the 
Greek  calmly,  "  and  I  had  my  hands  tied  behind  me." 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

Arisa  bent  down  eagerly,  for  she  loved  to  hear  of 
his  adventures,  though  he  had  his  own  way  of  narrating 


244  MARIETTA 

them  which  always  made  him  out  innocent  of  any  evil 
intention. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell.  It  was  in  Naples.  A 
woman  betrayed  me  and  they  bound  me  in  my  sleep. 
In  the  morning  I  was  condemned  to  death,  thrown  into 
a  cart  and  dragged  off  to  be  hanged.  I  thought  it  was 
all  over,  for  the  cords  were  new,  so  that  I  could  not 
break  them.  I  tried  hard  enough  I  But  even  if  I  had 
broken  loose,  I  could  never  have  fought  my  way 
through  the  crowd  alone.  The  noose  was  around  my 
neck." 

He  stopped,  as  if  he  had  told  everything. 

"  Go  on  !  "  said  Arisa.  "  How  did  you  escape  ? 
What  an  adventure !  " 

"  One  of  my  men  saved  me.  He  had  a  little  learn- 
ing, and  could  pass  for  a  monk  when  he  could  get  a 
cowl.  He  went  out  before  it  was  daylight  that  morn- 
ing, and  exchanged  clothes  with  a  burly  friar  whom 
he  met  in  a  quiet  place." 

"  But  how  did  the  friar  agree  to  that  ?  "  asked  Arisa 
in  surprise. 

"  He  had  nothing  to  say.  .  He  was  dead,"  answered 
Aristarchi. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he  chanced  to  find  a  dead 
friar  lying  in  the  road  ?  "  asked  the  Georgian. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  I  daresay  the  monk  was 
alive  when  he  met  my  man,  and  happened  to  die  a  few 
minutes  afterwards  —  by  mere  chance.  It  was  very 
fortunate,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  Arisa  laughed  softly.     "  But  what  did  he 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  245 

do  ?  Why  did  he  take  the  trouble  to  dress  the  monk 
in  his  clothes?" 

"  In  order  to  receive  his  dying  confession,  of  course. 
I  thought  you  would  understand  !  And  his  dying 
confession  was  that  he,  Michael  Pandos,  a  Greek 
robber,  had  killed  the  man  for  whose  murder  I  was 
being  hanged  that  morning.  My  man  came  just  in 
time,  for  as  the  friar's  head  was  half  shaved,  as  monks' 
heads  are,  he  had  to  shave  the  rest,  as  they  do  for  cool- 
ness in  the  south,  and  he  had  only  his  knife  with  which 
to  do  it.  But  no  one  found  that  out,  for  he  had  been 
a  barber,  as  he  had  been  a  monk  and  most  other 
things.  He  looked  very  well  in  a  cowl,  and  spoke 
Neapolitan.  I  did  not  know  him  when  he  came  to  the 
foot  of  the  gallows,  howling  out  that  I  was  innocent." 

"  Were  you  ?  "  asked  Arisa. 

"Of  course  I  was,"  answered  Aristarchi  with  con- 
viction. 

"  Who  was  the  man  that  had  been  killed  ?  " 

"I  forget  his  name,"  said  the  Greek.  "He  was  a 
Neapolitan  gentleman  of  great  family,  I  believe.  I 
forget  the  name.  He  had  red  hair," 

Arisa  laughed  and  stroked  Aristarchi's  big  head. 
She  thought  she  had  made  him  betray  himself. 

"You  had  seen  him  then?"  she  said,  with  a  ques- 
tion. "  I  suppose  you  happened  to  see  him  just  before 
he  died,  as  your  man  saw  the  monk." 

"  Oh  no  !  "  answered  Aristarchi,  who  was  not  to  be 
so  easily  caught.  "  It  was  part  of  the  dying  confession. 
It  was  necessary  to  identify  the  murdered  person. 


246  MARIETTA 

How  should  Michael  Pandos,  the  Greek  robber,  know 
the  name  of  the  gentleman  he  had  killed?  He  gave  a 
minute  description  of  him.  He  said  he  had  red  hair." 

"  You  are  not  a  Greek  for  nothing,"  laughed  Arisa. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Odysseus  ?  "  asked  Aristarchi. 

"No.  What  should  I  know  of  your  Greek  gods? 
If  you  were  a  good  Christian,  you  would  not  speak  of 
them." 

"  Odysseus  was  not  a  god,"  answered  Aristarchi,  with 
a  grin.  "He  was  a  good  Christian.  I  have  often 
thought  that  he  must  have  been  very  like  me.  He  was 
a  great  traveller  and  a  tolerable  sailor." 

"  A  pirate  ?  "  inquired  Arisa. 

"  Oh  no  !  He  was  a  man  of  the  most  noble  and 
upright  character,  incapable  of  deception  1  In  fact  he 
was  very  like  me,  and  had  nearly  as  many  adventures. 
If  you  understood  Greek,  I  would  repeat  some  verses  I 
know  about  him." 

"  Should  you  love  me  more,  if  I  understood  Greek  ?  " 
asked  Arisa  softly.  "  If  I  thought  so,  I  would  learn 
it." 

Aristarchi  laughed  roughly,  so  that  she  was  almost 
afraid  lest  he  should  be  heard  far  down  in  the  house. 

"  Learn  Greek  ?  You  ?  To  make  me  like  you 
better  ?  You  would  be  just  as  beautiful  if  you  were 
altogether  dumb  I  A  man  does  not  love  a  woman  for 
what  she  can  say  to  him,  in  any  language." 

He  turned  up  his  face,  and  his  rough  hands  drew  her 
splendid  head  down  to  him,  till  he  could  kiss  her, 
Then  there  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  247 

He  shook  his  great  shoulders  at  last. 

"  Everything  else  is  a  waste  of  time,"  he  said,  as  if 
speaking  to  himself. 

Her  head  lay  on  the  cushions  now,  and  she  watched 
him  with  half-closed  eyes  in  the  soft  light,  and  now  and 
then  the  thin  embroideries  that  covered  her  neck  and 
bosom  rose  and  fell  with  a  long,  satisfied  sigh.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  and  slowly  paced  the  marble  floor,  up 
and  down  before  her,  as  he  would  have  paced  the  little 
poop-deck  of  his  vessel. 

"  I  am  glad  you  told  me  about  that  glass-blower,"  he 
said  suddenly.  "  I  have  met  him  and  talked  with  him, 
and  I  may  meet  him  again.  He  is  old  Beroviero's 
chief  assistant.  I  fancy  he  is  in  love  with  the 
daughter." 

"In  love  with  the  girl  whom  Contarini  is  to  marry?  " 
asked  Arisa,  suddenly  opening  her  eyes. 

"Yes.  I  told  you  what  I  said  to  the  old  man  in  his 
private,  room  —  it  was  more  like  a  brick-kiln  than  a  rich 
man's  counting-house  !  While  I  was  inside,  the  young 
man  was  talking  to  the  girl  under  a  tree.  I  saw  them 
through  a  low  window  as  I  sat  discussing  business  with 
Beroviero." 

"  You  could  not  hear  what  they  said,  I  suppose." 

"No.  But  I  could  see  what  they  looked."  Aristar* 
chi  laughed  at  his  own  conceit.  "  The  girl  was  doing 
some  kind  of  work.  The  young  man  stood  beside  her, 
resting  one  hand  against  the  tree.  I  could  not  see  his 
face  all  the  time,  but  I  saw  hers.  She  is  in  love  with 
him.  They  were  talking  earnestly  and  she  said  some- 


248  MARIETTA 

tiring  that  had  a  strong  effect  upon  him,  for  I  saw  that 
he  stood  a  long  time  looking  at  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
and  saying  nothing.  What  can  you  make  of  that,  ex- 
cept that  they  are  in  love  with  each  other  ?  " 

"  That  is  strange,"  said  Arisa,  "  for  it  was  he  that 
brought  the  message  to  Contarini,  bidding  him  go  and 
see  her  in  Saint  Mark's.  That  was  how  he  chanced  upon 
them,  downstairs,  at  their  last  meeting." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  was  that  message,  and  not 
some  other  ?  " 

"  Contarini  told  me." 

"  But  if  the  boy  loves  her,  as  I  am  sure  he  does,  why 
should  he  have  delivered  the  message  ?  "  asked  the  cun- 
ning Greek.  "  It  would  have  been  very  easy  for  him 
to  have  named  another  hour,  and  Contarini  would 
never  have  seen  her.  Besides,  he  had  a  fine  chance 
then  to  send  the  future  husband  to  Paradise  !  He 
needed  only  to  name  a  quiet  street,  instead  of  the 
Church,  and  to  appoint  the  hour  at  dusk.  One,  two 
and  three  in  the  back,  the  body  to  the  canal,  and  the 
marriage  would  have  been  broken  off." 

"  Perhaps  he  does  not  wish  it  broken  off,"  suggested 
Arisa,  taking  an  equally  amiable  but  somewhat  different 
point  of  view.  "  He  cannot  marry  the  girl,  of  course — 
but  if  she  is  once  married  and  out  of  her  father's  house, 
it  will  be  different." 

"  That  is  an  idea,"  assented  Aristarchi.  **  Look  at 
us  two.  It  is  very  much  the  same  position,  and  Con- 
tarini will  be  indifferent  about  her,  which  he  is  not, 
where  you  are  concerned.  Between  the  glass-blower 


A  MAID  OP  VENICE  249 

and  me,  and  his  wife  and  you,  lie  will  not  be  a  man  to 
be  envied.  That  is  another  reason  for  helping  the 
marriage  as  much  as  we  can." 

"What  if  the  glass-blower  makes  her  give  him 
money  ?  "  asked  the  Georgian  woman.  "  If  she  loves 
him  she  will  give  him  everything  she  has,  and  he  will 
take  all  he  can  get,  of  course." 

"Of  course,  if  she  had  anything  to  give,"  said  Aris- 
tarchi.  "  But  she  will  only  have  what  you  allow  Con- 
tarini  to  give  her.  The  young  man  knows  well  enough 
that  her  dowry  will  all  be  paid  to  her  husband  on  the 
day  of  the  marriage.  It  does  not  matter,  for  if  he  is 
in  love  he  will  not  care  much  about  the  money." 

"I  hope  he  will  be  careful.  Any  one  else  may  see 
him  with  her,  as  you  did,  and  may  warn  old  Contarini 
that  his  intended  daughter-in-law  is  in  love  with  a  boy 
belonging  to  the  glass-house.  The  marriage  would  be 
broken  off  at  once  if  that  happened." 

"That  is  true." 

So  they  talked  together,  judging  Zorzi  and  Mari- 
etta according  to  their  views  of  human  nature,  which 
they  deduced  chiefly  from  their  experience  of  them- 
selves. From  time  to  time  Arisa  went  and  listened  at 
the  hole  in  the  floor,  and  when  she  heard  the  guests 
beginning  to  take  their  leave  she  hid  Aristarchi  in  the 
embrasure  of  a  disused  window  that  was  concealed  by 
a  tapestry,  and  she  went  into  the  larger  room  and  lay 
down  among  the  cushions  by  the  balcony.  When  Con- 
tarini came,  a  few  minutes  later,  she  seemed  to  have 
fallen  asleep  like  a  child,  weary  of  waiting  for  him. 


250  MARIETTA 

So  far  both  she  and  Aristarchi  looked  upon  Zorzi, 
who  did  not  know  of  their  existence,  with  a  friendly 
eye,  but  their  knowledge  of  his  love  for  Marietta  was 
in  reality  one  more  danger  in  his  path.  If  at  any 
future  moment  he  seemed  about  to  endanger  the  suc- 
cess of  their  plans,  the  strong  Greek  would  soon  find 
an  opportunity  of  sending  him  to  another  world,  as  he 
had  sent  many  another  innocent  enemy  before.  They 
themselves  were  safe  enough  for  the  present,  and  it 
was  not  likely  that  they  would  commit  any  indiscretion 
that  might  endanger  their  future  flight.  They  had 
long  ago  determined  what  to  do  if  Contarini  should 
accidentally  find  Aristarchi  in  the  house.  Long  before 
his  body  was  found,  they  would  both  be  on  the  high 
seas ;  few  persons  knew  of  Arisa's  existence,  no  one 
connected  the  Greek  merchant  captain  in  any  way  with 
Contarini,  and  no  one  guessed  the  sailing  qualities  of 
the  unobtrusive  vessel  that  lay  in  the  Giudecca  waiting 
for  a  cargo,  but  ballasted  to  do  her  best,  and  well 
stocked  with  provisions  and  water.  The  crew  knew 
nothing,  when  other  sailors  asked  when  they  were  to 
sail ;  the  men  could  only  say  that  their  captain  was  the 
owner  of  the  vessel  and  was  very  hard  to  please  in  the 
matter  of  a  cargo. 

In  one  way  or  another  the  two  were  sure  of  gaining 
their  end,  as  soon  as  they  should  have  amassed  a  suffi- 
cient fortune  to  live  in  luxury  somewhere  in  the  far 
south. 

A  change  in  the  situation  was  brought  about  by  the 
appearance  of  Zuan  Venier  at  the  glass-house  on  the 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  251 

following  morning.  Indolent,  tired  of  his  existence, 
sick  of  what  amused  and  interested  his  companions, 
but  generous,  true  and  kind-hearted,  he  had  been  sorry 
to  hear  that  Zorzi  had  suffered  by  an  accident,  and  he 
felt  impelled  to  go  and  see  whether  the  young  fellow 
needed  help.  Venier  did  not  remember  that  he  had 
ever  resisted  an  impulse  in  his  life,  though  he  took  the 
greatest  pains  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  ever  felt  any. 
He  perhaps  did  not  realise  that  although  he  had  done 
many  foolish  things,  and  some  that  a  confessor  would 
not  have  approved,  he  had  never  wished  to  do  anything 
that  was  mean,  or  unkind,  or  that  might  give  him  an 
unfair  advantage  over  others. 

He  fancied  Zorzi  alone,  uncared  for,  perhaps  obliged 
to  work  in  spite  of  his  lameness,  and  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  might  help  him  in  some  way,  though  it  was 
by  no  means  clear  what  direction  his  help  should  take. 
He-  did  not  know  that  Beroviero  was  absent,  and  he 
intended  to  call  for  the  old  glass-maker.  It  would  be 
easy  to  say  that  he  was  an  old  friend  of  Jacopo  Con- 
tarini  and  wished  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Mari- 
etta's father  before  the  wedding.  He  would  probably 
have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Zorzi  without  show- 
ing that  he  already  knew  him,  and  he  trusted  to  Zorzi's 
discretion  to  conceal  the  fact,  for  he  was  a  good  judge 
of  men. 

It  turned  out  to  be  much  easier  to  carry  out  his  plan 
than  he  had  expected. 

"My  name  is  Zuan  Venier,"  he  said,  in  answer  to 
Pasquale's  gruff  inquiry. 


252  MARIETTA 

Pasquale  eyed  him  a  moment  through  the  bars,  and 
immediately  understood  that  he  was  not  a  person  to  be 
kicked  into  the  canal  or  received  with  other  similar- 
amenities.  The  great  name  alone  would  have  awed 
the  old  porter  to  something  like  civility,  but  he  had 
seen  the  visitor's  face,  and  being  quite  as  good  a  judge 
of  humanity  as  Venier  himself,  he  opened  the  door  at 
once. 

Venier  explained  that  he  wished  to  pay  his  respects 
to  Messer  Angelo  Beroviero,  being  an  old  friend  of 
Messer  Jacopo  Contarini.  Learning  that  the  master 
was  absent  on  a  journey,  he  asked  whether  there  were 
any  one  within  to  whom  he  could  deliver  a  message. 
He  had  heard,  he  said,  that  the  master  had  a  trusted 
assistant,  a  certain  Zorzi.  Pasquale  answered  that 
Zorzi  was  in  the  laboratory,  and  led  the  way. 

Zorzi  was  greatly  surprised,  but  as  Venier  had  antici- 
pated, he  said  nothing  before  Pasquale  which  could 
show  that  he  had  met  his  visitor  before.  Venier  made 
a  courteous  inclination  of  the  head,  and  the  porter  dis- 
appeared immediately. 

"  I  heard  that  you  had  been  hurt,"  said  Venier,  when 
they  were  alone.  "  I  came  to  see  whether  I  could  do 
anything  for  you.  Can  I  ?  " 

Zorzi  was  touched  by  the  kind  words,  spoken  so 
quietly  and  sincerely,  for  it  was  only  lately  that  any 
one  except  Marietta  had  shown  him  a  little  considera- 
tion. He  had  not  forgotten  how  his  master  had  taken 
leave  of  him,  and  the  unexpected  friendliness  of  old 
Pasquale  after  his  accident  had  made  a  difference  in 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  253 

his  life  ;  but  of  all  men  he  had  ever  met,  Venier  was 
the  one  whom  he  had  instinctively  desired  for  a  friend. 

"Have  you  come  over  from  Venice  on  purpose  to 
see  me  ?  "  he  asked,  in  something  like  wonder. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Venier  with  a  smile.  "  Why  are 
you  surprised  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  so  good  of  you." 

"You  have  solemnly  sworn  to  do  as  much  for  me, 
and  for  all  the  companions  of  our  society,"  returned 
Venier,  still  smiling.  "We  are  to  help  each  other 
under  all  circumstances,  as  far  as  we  can,  you  know. 
You  are  standing,  and  it  must  tire  you,  with  those 
crutches.  Shall  we  sit  down  ?  Tell  me  quite  frankly, 
is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"Nothing  you  could  ever  do  could  make  me  more 
grateful  than  I  am  to  you  for  coming,"  answered  Zorzi 
sincerely. 

Venier  took  the  crutches  from  his  hands  and  helped 
him  to  sit  on  the  bench. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Zorzi  said. 

Venier  sat  down  beside  him  and  asked  him  all  man- 
ner of  questions  about  his  accident,  and  how  it  had 
happened.  Zorzi  had  no  reason  for  concealing  the 
truth  from  him. 

"They  all  hate  me  here,"  he  said.  "It  happened 
like  an  accident,  but  the  man  made  it  happen.  I  do 
not  think  that  he  intended  to  maim  me  for  life,  but  he 
meant  to  hurt  me  badly,  and  he  did.  There  was  not 
a  man  or  a  boy  in  the  furnace  room  who  did  not  under- 
stand, for  no  workman  ever  yet  let  his  blow-pipe  slip 


254  MARIETTA 

from  his  hand  in  swinging  a  piece.  But  I  do  not  wish 
to  make  matters  worse,  and  I  have  said  that  I  believed 
it  was  an  accident." 

"  I  should  like  to  come  across  the  man  who  did  it," 
said  Venier,  his  eyes  growing  hard  and  steely. 

"  When  I  tried  to  hop  to  the  furnace  on  one  leg  to 
save  myself  from  falling,  one  of  the  men  cried  out  that 
I  was  a  dancer,  and  laughed.  I  hear  that  the  name 
has  stuck  to  me  among  the  workmen.  I  am  called  the 
'Ballarin.'" 

The  ignoble  meanness  of  Zorzi's  tormentors  roused 
Venier's  gener'ous  blood. 

"  You  will  yet  be  their  master,"  he  said.  "  You  will 
some  day  have  a  furnace  of  your  own,  and  they  will 
fawn  to  you.  Your  nickname  will  be  better  than  their 
names  in  a  few  years  !  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  answered  Zorzi. 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  other,  with  an  energy  that 
would  have  surprised  those  who  only  knew  the  listless 
young  nobleman  whom  nothing  could  amuse  or  interest. 

He  did  not  stay  very  long,  and  when  he  went  away 
he  said  nothing  about  coming  again.  Zorzi  went  with 
him  to  the  door.  He  had  asked  the  Dalmatian  to  tell 
old  Beroviero  of  his  visit.  Pasquale,  who  had  never 
done  such  a  thing  in  his  life,  actually  went  out  upon 
the  footway  to  the  steps  and  steadied  the  gondola  by 
the  gunwale  while  Venier  got  in. 

Giovanni  Beroviero  saw  Venier  come  out,  for  it  was 
near  noon,  and  he  had  just  come  back  from  his  own 
glass-house  and  was  standing  in  the  shadow  of  his 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  255 

father's  doorway,  slowly  fanning  himself  with  his  large 
cap  before  he  went  upstairs,  for  it  had  been  very  hot 
in  the  sun.  He  did  not  know  Zuan  Venier  by  sight, 
but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  Venetian's  high  station, 
and  he  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  nobleman  was  evi- 
dently on  good  terms  with  Zorzi. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

ZORZI  had  not  left  the  glass-house  since  he  had 
been  hurt,  but  he  foresaw  that  he  might  be  obliged 
to  leave  the  laboratory  for  an  hour  or  more,  now  that 
he  was  better.  He  could  walk,  with  one  crutch  and 
a  stick,  resting  a  little  on  the  injured  foot,  and  he 
felt  sure  that  in  a  few  days  he  should  be  able  to  walk 
with  the  stick  alone.  He  had  the  certainty  that  he 
was  lame  for  life,  and  now  and  then,  when  it  was  dusk 
and  he  sat  under  the  plane-tree,  meditating  upon  the 
uncertain  future,  he  felt  a  keen  pang  at  the  thought 
that  he  might  never  again  walk  without  limping  ;  for 
he  had  been  light  and  agile,  and  very  swift  of  foot  as 
a  boy. 

He  fancied  that  Marietta  would  pity  him,  but  not 
as  she  had  pitied  him  at  first.  There  would  be  a  little 
feeling  of  repulsion  for  the  cripple,  mixed  with  her 
compassion  for  the  man.  It  was  true  that,  as  matters 
were  going  now,  he  might  not  see  her  often  again,  and 
he  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  no  right  to  think  of 
loving  her.  Zuan  Venier's  visit  had  recalled  very 
clearly  the  obligations  by  which  he  had  solemnly  bound 
himself,  and  which  he  honestly  meant  to  fulfil  ;  and 
apart  from  them,  when  he  tried  to  reason  about  his 


MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF   VENICE  257 

love,  he  could  make  it  seem,  absurd  enough  that  he 
should  dream  of  winning  Marietta  for  his  wife. 

But  love  itself  does  not  argue.  At  first  it  is  seen 
far  off,  like  a  beautiful  bird  of  rare  plumage,  among 
flowers,  on  a  morning  in  spring  ;  it  comes  nearer,  it  is 
timid,  it  advances,  it  recedes,  it  poises  on  swiftly  beat- 
ing wings,  it  soars  out  of  sight,  but  suddenly  it  is 
nearer  than  before  ;  it  changes  shapes,  and  grows  vast 
and  terrible,  till  its  flight  is  like  the  rushing  of  the 
whirlwind  ;  then  all  is  calm  again,  and  in  the  stillness 
a  sweet  voice  sings  the  chant  of  peace  or  the  melan- 
choly dirge  of  an  endless  regret ;  it  is  no  longer  the 
dove,  nor  the  eagle,  nor  the  storm  that  leaves  ruin  in  its 
track  —  it  is  everything,  it  is  life,  it  is  the  world  itself, 
for  ever  and  time  without  end,  for  good  or  evil,  for 
such  happiness  as  may  pass  all  understanding,  if  God 
will,  and  if  not,  for  undying  sorrow. 

Zorzi  had  forgotten  his  small  resentment  against 
Marietta,  for  not  having  given  him  a  sign  nor  sent  one 
word  of  greeting.  He  knew  only  that  he  loved  her 
with  all  his  heart  and  would  give  every  hope  he  had 
for  the  pressure  of  her  hand  in  his  and  the  sound  of  her 
answering  voice ;  and  he  dreaded  lest  she  should  pity 
him,  as  one  pities  a  hurt  creature  that  one  would 
rather  not  touch. 

It  would  not  be  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her  that  he 
might  leave  the  laboratory  before  long.  He  felt  quite 
sure  that  Giovanni  would  make  some  further  attempt 
to  get  possession  of  the  little  book  that  meant  fortune 
to  him  who  should  possess  it ;  and  Giovanni  evidently 
S 


258  MARIETTA 

knew  where  it  was.  It  would  be  easy  for  him  to  send 
Zorzi  on  an  errand  of  importance,  as  soon  as  he  should 
be  so  far  recovered  as  to  walk  a  little.  The  great  glass- 
houses had  dealings  with  the  banks  in  Venice  and  with 
merchants  of  all  countries,  and  Beroviero  had  more  than 
once  sent  Zorzi  to  Venice  on  business  of  moment.  Gio- 
vanni would  come  in  some  morning  and  declare  that  he 
could  trust  no  one  but  Zorzi  to  collect  certain  sums  of 
money  in  the  city,  and  he  would  take  care  that  the 
matter  should  keep  him  absent  several  hours.  That 
would  be  ample  time  in  which  to  try  the  flagstones 
with  a  hammer  and  to  turn  over  the  right  one.  Zorzi 
had  convinced  himself  that  it  gave  a  hollow  sound 
when  he  tapped  it  and  that  Giovanni  could  find  it 
easily  enough. 

It  was  therefore  folly  to  leave  the  box  in  its  present 
place  any  longer,  and  he  cast  about  in  his  mind  for 
some  safer  spot  in  which  to  hide  it.  In  the  meantime, 
fearing  lest  Giovanni  might  think  of  sending  him  out 
at  any  moment,  he  waited  till  Pasquale  had  brought 
him  water  in  the  morning,  and  then  raised  the  stone,  as 
he  had  done  before,  took  the  box  out  of  the  earth  and 
hid  it  in  the  cool  end  of  the  annealing  oven,  while  he 
replaced  the  slab.  The  effort  it  cost  him  to  move  the 
latter  told  him  plainly  enough  that  his  injury  had 
weakened  him  almost  as  an  illness  might  have  done, 
but  he  succeeded  in  getting  the  stone  into  its  bed  at 
last.  He  tapped  it  with  the  end  of  his  crutch  as  he 
knelt  on  the  floor,  and  the  sound  it  gave  was  even 
more  hollow  than  before.  He  smiled  as  he  thought 


A   MAID    OF    VENICE  259 

how  easily  Giovanni  would  find  the  place,  and  how 
grievously  disappointed  he  would  be  when  he  realised 
that  it  was  empty. 

It  occurred  at  once  to  Zorzi  that  Giovanni's  first 
impression  would  naturally  be  that  Zorzi  had  taken 
the  book  himself  in  order  to  use  it  during  the  master's 
absence;  and  this  thought  perplexed  him  for  a  time, 
until  he  reflected  that  Giovanni  could  not  accuse  him 
of  the  deed  without  accusing  himself  of  having  searched 
for  the  box,  a  proceeding  which  his  father  would  never 
forgive.  Zorzi  did  not  intend  to  tell  the  master  of  his 
conversation  with  Giovanni,  nor  of  his  suspicions.  He 
would  only  say  that  the  hiding-place  had  not  seemed 
safe  enough,  because  the  stone  gave  a  hollow  sound 
which  even  the  boys  would  notice  if  anything  fell 
upon  it. 

But  for  Nella,  it  would  be  safest  to  give  the  box 
into  Marietta's  keeping,  since  no  one  could  possibly 
suspect  that  it  could  have  found  its  way  to  her  room. 
At  the  mere  thought,  his  heart  beat  fast.  It  would  be 
a  reason  for  seeing  her  alone,  if  he  could,  and  for  talk- 
ing with  her.  He  planned  how  he  would  send  her  a 
message  by  Nella,  begging  that  he  might  speak  to  her 
on  some  urgent  business  of  her  father's,  and  she  would 
come  as  she  had  come  before ;  they  would  talk  in  the 
garden,  under  the  plane-tree,  where  Pasquale  and  Nella 
could  see  them,  and  he  would  explain  what  he  wanted. 
Then  he  would  give  her  the  box.  He  thought  of  it 
with  calm  delight,  as  he  saw  it  all  in  a  beautiful  vision. 

But  there  was  Nella,  and  there  was  Pasquale,  the 


260  MARIETTA 

former  indiscreet,  the  latter  silent  but  keen-sighted 
and  quick-witted  in  spite  of  his  slow  and  surly  ways. 
Every  one  knew  that  the  book  existed  somewhere,  and 
the  porter  and  the  serving-woman  would  guess  the 
truth  at  once.  At  present  no  one  but  himself  knew 
positively  where  the  thing  was.  If  he  carried  out  his 
plan,  three  other  persons  would  possess  the  knowledge. 
It  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

He  looked  about  the  laboratory.  There  were  the 
beams  and  crossbeams,  and  the  box  would  probably 
just  fit  into  one  of  the  shadowy  interstices  between 
two  of  the  latter.  But  they  were  twenty  feet  from 
the  ground,  he  had  no  ladder,  and  if  there  had  been 
one  at  hand  he  could  not  have  mounted  it  yet.  His 
eye  fell  on  the  big  earthen  jar,  more  than  half  a  man's 
height  and  as  big  round  as  a  hogshead,  half  full  of 
broken  glass  from  the  experiments.  No  one  would 
think  of  it  as  a  place  for  hiding  anything,  and  it  would 
not  be  emptied  till  it  was  quite  full,  several  months 
hence.  Besides,  no  one  would  dare  to  empty  it  with- 
out Beroviero's  orders,  a;j  it  contained  nothing  but  fine 
red  glass,  which  was  valuable  and  only  needed  melting 
to  be  used  at  once. 

It  was  not  an  easy  matter  to  take  out  half  the  con- 
tents, and  he  was  in  constant  danger  of  interruption. 
At  night  it  would  have  been  impossible  owing  to  the  1 
presence  of  the  boys.  If  Pasquale  appeared  and  saw  a 
heap  of  broken  glass  on  the  floor,  he  would  surely  sus- 
pect something.  Zorzi  calculated  that  it  would  take 
two  hours  to  remove  the  fragments  with  the  care 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  261 

necessary  to  avoid  cutting  his  hands  badly,  and  to  put 
them  back  again,  for  the  shape  of  the  jar  would  not 
admit  of  his  employing  even  one  of  the  small  iron 
shovels  used  for  filling  the  crucibles. 

With  considerable  difficulty  he  moved  a  large  chest, 
that  contained  sifted  white  sand,  out  of  the  dark  corner 
in  which  it  stood  and  placed  it  diagonally  so  as  to  leave 
a  triangular  space  behind  it.  To  guard  against  the 
sound  of  the  broken  glass  being  heard  from  without, 
he  shut  the  window,  in  spite  of  the  heat,  and  having 
arranged  in  the  corner  one  of  the  sacks  used  for  bring- 
ing the  cakes  of  kelp-ashes  from  Egypt,  he  began  to 
fill  it  with  the  broken  glass  he  brought  from  the  jar  in 
a  bucket.  When  he  judged  that  he  had  taken  out 
more  than  half  the  contents,  he  took  the  iron  box  from 
the  annealing  oven.  It  was  hard  to  carry  it  under  the 
arm  by  which  he  walked  with  a  stick,  the  other  hand 
being  necessary  to  move  the  crutch,  and  as  he  reached 
the  jar  he  felt  that  it  was  slipping.  He  bent  forward 
and  it  fell  with  a  crash,  bedding  itself  in  the  smashed 
glass.  Zorzi  drew  a  long  breath  of  satisfaction,  for  the 
hardest  part  of  the  work  was  done. 

He  tried  to  heave  up  the  sack  from  the  corner,  but  it 
was  far  too  heavy,  and  he  was  obliged  to  bring  back 
more  than  half  of  what  it  held  by  bucketfuls,  before  he 
was  able  to  bring  the  rest,  dragging  it  after  him  across 
the  floor.  It  was  finished  at  last,  he  had  shaken  out 
the  sack  carefully  over  the  jar's  mouth,  and  he  had 
moved  the  sand-chest  back  to  its  original  position.  No 
one  would  have  imagined  that  the  broken  glass  had 


262  MARIETTA 

been  removed  and  put  back  again.  The  box  was  safely 
hidden  now. 

He  was  utterly  exhausted  when  he  dropped  into  the 
big  chair,  after  washing  the  dust  and  blood  from  his 
hands  —  for  it  had  been  impossible  to  do  what  he  had 
done  without  getting  a  few  scratches,  though  none  of 
them  could  have  been  called  a  cut.  He  sat  quite  still 
and  closed  his  eyes.  The  box  was  safe  now.  It  was 
not  to  be  imagined  that  any  one  should  ever  suspect 
where  it  was,  and  on  that  point  he  was  well  satisfied. 
His  only  possible  cause  of  anxiety  now  might  be  that 
if  anything  should  happen  to  him,  the  master  would  be 
in  ignorance  of  what  he  had  done.  But  he  saw  no 
reason  to  expect  anything  so  serious  and  his  mind  was 
at  rest  about  a  matter  which  had  much  disturbed  him 
ever  since  Giovanni's  visit. 

The  plan  which  he  had  attributed  to  the  latter  was 
not,  however,  the  one  which  suggested  itself  to  the 
younger  Beroviero's  mind.  It  would  have  been  easy 
to  carry  out,  and  was  very  simple,  and  for  that  very 
reason  Giovanni  did  not  think  of  it.  Besides,  in  his 
estimation  it  would  be  better  to  act  in  such  a  way  as 
to  get  rid  of  Zorzi  for  ever,  if  that  were  possible. 

On  the  Saturday  night  after  Zorzi  had  hidden  the 
box  in  the  jar,  the  workmen  cleared  away  the  litter  in 
the  main  furnace  rooms  and  the  order  was  given  to  let 
the  fires  go  out.  Zorzi  sent  word  to  the  night  boys 
who  tended  the  fire  in  the  laboratory  that  they  were  to 
come  as  usual.  They  appeared  punctually,  and  to  his 
surprise  made  no  objection  to  working,  though  he  had 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  263 

expected  that  they  would  complain  of  the  heat  and 
allege  that  their  fathers  would  not  let  them  go  on  any 
longer.  On  Sunday,  according  to  the  old  rule  of  the 
house,  no  work  was  done,  and  Zorzi  kept  up  the  fire 
himself,  spending  most  of  the  long  day  in  the  garden. 
On  Sunday  night  the  boys  came  again  and  went  to 
work  without  a  word,  and  in  the  morning  they  left  the 
usual  supply  of  chopped  billets  piled  up  and  ready  for 
use.  Zorzi  had  rested  himself  thoroughly  and  went 
back  to  his  experiments  on  that  Monday  with  fresh 
energy. 

The  very  first  test  he  took  of  the  glass  that  had  been 
fusing  since  Saturday  night  was  successful  beyond  his 
highest  expectations.  He  had  grown  reckless  after 
having  spoiled  the  original  mixtures  by  adding  the 
copper  in  the  hope  of  getting  more  of  the  wonder- 
ful red,  and  carried  away  by  the  love  of  the  art  and  by 
the  certainty  of  ultimate  success  which  every  man  of 
genius  feels  almost  from  boyhood,  he  had  deliberately 
attempted  to  produce  the  white  glass  for  which  Bero 
viero  was  famous.  He  followed  a  theory  of  his  own 
in  doing  so,  for  although  he  was  tolerably  sure  of  the 
nature  of  the  ingredients,  as  was  every  workman  in 
the  house,  neither  he  nor  they  knew  anything  of  the 
proportions  in  which  Beroviero  mixed  the  substances, 
and  every  glass-maker  knows  by  experience  that  those 
proportions  constitute  by  far  the  most  important  ele- 
ment of  success. 

Zorzi  had  not  poured  out  the  specimen  on  the  table 
as  he  had  done  when  the  glass  was  coloured  ;  on  the 


264  MARIETTA 

contrary  he  had  taken  some  on  the  blow-pipe  and  had 
begun  to  work  with  it  at  once,  for  the  three  great  requi- 
sites were  transparency,  ductility,  and  lightness.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  had  convinced  himself  that  his  glass 
possessed  all  these  qualities  in  an  even  higher  degree 
than  the  master's  own,  and  that  was  immeasurably  su- 
perior to  anything  which  the  latter's  own  sons  or  any 
other  glass-maker  could  produce.  Zorzi  had  taken 
very  little  at  first,  and  he  made  of  it  a  thin  phial  of 
graceful  shape,  turned  the  mouth  outward,  and  dropped 
the  little  vessel  into  the  bed  of  ashes.  He  would  have 
set  it  in  the  annealing  oven,  but  he  wished  to  try  the 
weight  of  it,  and  he  let  it  cool.  Taking  it  up  when  he 
could  touch  it  safely,  it  felt  in  his  hand  like  a  thing 
of  air.  On  the  shelf  was  another  nearly  like  it  in  size, 
which  he  had  made  long  ago  with  Beroviero's  glass. 
There  were  scales  on  the  table  ;  he  laid  one  phial  in 
each,  and  the  old  one  was  by  far  the  heavier.  He  had 
to  put  a  number  of  pennyweights  into  the  scale  with 
his  own  before  the  two  were  balanced. 

His  heart  almost  stood  still,  and  he  could  not  believe 
his  good  fortune.  He  took  the  sheet  of  rough  paper 
on  which  he  had  written  down  the  precise  contents  of 
the  three  crucibles,  and  he  carefully  went  over  the 
proportions  of  'the  ingredients  in  the  one  from  which 
he  had  just  taken  his  specimen.  He  made  a  strong 
effort  of  memory,  trying  to  recall  whether  he  had  been 
careless  and  inexact  in  weighing  any  of  the  materials, 
but  he  knew  that  he  had  been  most  precise.  He  had 
also  noted  the  hour  at  which  he  had  put  the  mixture 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  265 

into  the  crucible  on  Saturday,  and  he  now  glanced  at 
the  sand-glass  and  made  another  note.  But  he  did  not 
lay  the  paper  upon  the  table,  where  it  had  been  lying 
for  two  days,  kept  in  place  by  a  little  glass  weight. 
It  had  become  his  most  precious  possession  ;  what  was 
written  on  it  meant  a  fortune  as  soon  as  he  could  get  a 
furnace  to  himself  ;  it  was  his  own,  and  not  the  mas- 
ter's; it  was  wealth,  it  might  even  be  fame.  Bero- 
viero  might  call  him  to  account  for  misusing  the 
furnace,  but  that  was  no  capital  offence  after  all,  and 
it  was  more  than  paid  for  by  the  single  crucible  of 
magnificent  red  glass.  Zorzi  was  attempting  to  repro- 
duce that  too,  for  he  had  the  master's  notes  of  what 
the  pot  had  contained,  and  it  was  almost  ready  to  be 
tried  ;  he  even  had  the  piece  of  copper  carefully 
weighed  to  be  equal  in  bulk  with  the  ladle  that  had 
been  melted.  If  he  succeeded  there  also,  that  was 
a  new  secret  for  Beroviero,  but  the  other  was  for 
himself. 

All  that  morning  he  revelled  in  the  delight  of  work 
ing  with  the  new  glass.  A  marvellous  dish  with  up- 
turned edge  and  ornamented  foot  was  the  next  thing  he 
made,  and  he  placed  it  at  once  in  the  annealing  oven. 
Then  he  made  a  tall  drinking  glass  such  as  he  had  never 
made  before,  and  then,  in  contrast,  a  tiny  ampulla,  so 
small  that  he  could  almost  hide  it  in  his  hand,  with  its 
spout,  yet  decorated  with  all  the  perfection  of  a  larger 
piece.  He  worked  on,  careless  of  the  time,  his  genius 
all  alive,  the  rest  a  distant  dream. 

He  was  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  a  beaker  of 


266  MARIETTA 

a  new  shape  when  the  door  opened,  and  Giovanni 
entered  the  laboratory.  Zorzi  was  seated  on  the  work- 
ing stool,  the  pontil  in  one  hand,  the  '  porcello '  in"  the 
other.  He  glanced  at  Giovanni  absently  and  went  on, 
for  it  was  the  last  touch  and  the  glass  was  cooling 
quickly. 

"  Still  working,  in  this  heat  ?  "  asked  Giovanni,  fan- 
ning himself  with  his  cap  as  was  his  custom. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  a  sharp  click- 
ing sound  and  the  beaker  fell  finished  into  the  soft 
ashes. 

"Yes,  I  am  still  at  work,  as  you  see,"  answered 
Zorzi,  not  realising  that  Giovanni  would  particularly 
notice  what  he  was  doing. 

He  rose  with  some  difficulty  and  got  his  crutch  under 
one  arm.  With  a  forked  stick  he  took  the  beaker  from 
the  ashes  and  placed  it  in  the  annealing  oven.  Gio- 
vanni watched  him,  and  when  the  broad  iron  door  was 
open,  he  saw  the  other  pieces  already  standing  inside 
on  the  iron  tray. 

"  Admirable  !  "  cried  Giovanni.  "  You  are  a  great 
artist,  my  dear  Zorzi !  There  is  no  one  like  you !  " 

"  I  do  what  I  can,"  answered  Zorzi,  closing  the  door 
quickly,  lest  the  hot  end  of  the  oven  should  cool  at  all. 

"  I  should  say  that  you  do  what  no  one  else  can," 
returned  Giovanni.  "  But  how  lame  you  are  I  I  had 
expected  to  find  you  walking  as  well  as  ever  by  this 
time." 

"I  shall  never  walk  again  without  limping." 

"  Oh,   take   courage  I  "  said   Giovanni,  who  seemed 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  267 

determined  to  be  both  cheerful  and  flattering.  "  You 
will  soon  be  as  light  on  your  feet  as  ever.  But  it  was 
a  shocking  accident." 

He  sat  down  in  the  big  chair  and  Zorzi  took  the 
small  one  bj  the  table,  wishing  that  he  would  go  away. 

"It  is  a  pity  that  you  had  no  white  glass  in  the 
furnace  on  that  particular  day,"  Giovanni  continued. 
"  You  said  you  had  none,  if  I  remember.  How  is  it 
that  you  have  it  now  ?  Have  you  changed  one  of  the 
crucibles  ?  " 

"Yes.  One  of  the  experiments  succeeded  so  well 
that  it  seemed  better  to  take  out  all  the  glass." 

"  May  I  see  a  piece  of  it  ?  "  inquired  Giovanni,  as  if 
he  were  asking  a  great  favour. 

It  was  one  thing  to  let  him  test  the  glass  himself,  it 
was  quite  another  to  show  him  a  piece  of  it.  He  would 
see  it  sooner  or  later,  and  he  could  guess  nothing  of  its 
composition. 

"  The  specimen  is  there,  on  the  table,"  Zorzi  an- 
swered. 

Giovanni  rose  at  once  and  took  the  piece  from  the 
paper  on  which  it  lay,  and  held  it  up  against  the  light. 
He  was  amazed  at  the  richness  of  the  colour,  and  gave 
vent  to  all  sorts  of  exclamations. 

"  Did  you  make  this  ?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"It  is  the  result  of  the  master's  experiments." 

"It  is  marvellous  I     He  has  made  another  fortune." 

Giovanni  replaced  the  specimen  where  it  had  lain, 
and  as  he  did  so,  his  eye  fell  on  the  phial  Zorzi  had 
made  that  morning.  Zorzi  had  not  put  it  into  the 


268  MARIETTA 

annealing  oven  because  it  had  been  allowed  to  get 
quite  cold,  so  that  the  annealing  would  have  been  im- 
perfect. Giovanni  took  it  up,  and  uttered  a  low  excla- 
mation of  surprise  at  its  lightness.  He  held  it  up  and 
looked  through  it,  and  then  he  took  it  by  the  neck  and 
tapped  it  sharply  with  his  finger-nail. 

"  Take  care,"  said  Zorzi  ;  "  it  is  not  annealed.  It 
may  fly." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Giovanni.  "  Have  you  just  made 
it?" 

"Yes." 

"  It  is  the  finest  glass  I  ever  saw.  It  is  much  better 
than  what  they  had  in  the  main  furnaces  the  day  you 
were  hurt.  Did  you  not  find  it  so  yourself,  in  work- 
ing with  it  ?  " 

Zorzi  began  to  feel  anxious  as  to  the  result  of  so 
much  questioning.  Whatever  happened  he  must  hide 
from  Giovanni  the  fact  that  he  had  discovered  a  new 
glass  of  his  own. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  with  affected  indifference.  "  I 
thought  it  was  unusually  good.  I  daresay  there  may 
be  some  slight  difference  in  the  proportions." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  my  father  does  not  follow 
any  exact  rule  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.     But  he  is  always  making  experiments." 

"  He  mixes  all  the  materials  for  the  main  furnaces 
himself,  does  he  not  ?  "  inquired  Giovanni. 

"  Yes.  He  does  it  alone,  in  the  room  that  is  kept 
locked.  When  he  has  finished,  the  men  come  and 
carry  out  the  barrows.  The  materials  are  stirred  and 
mixed  together  outside." 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE 

"  Yes.  I  do  it  in  the  same  way  myself.  Have  you 
ever  helped  my  father  in  that  work  ?  " 

"No,  certainly  not.  If  I  had  helped  him  once,  I 
should  know  the  secret."  Zorzi  smiled. 

"  But  if  you  do  not  know  the  secret,"  said  Giovanni 
unexpectedly,  "  how  did  you  make  this  glass  ?  " 

He  held  up  the  phial. 

"Why  do  you  suppose  that  I  made  it?"  Zorzi  felt 
himself  growing  pale.  "The  master  has  supplies  of 
everything  here  in  the  laboratory  and  in  the  little  room 
where  I  sleep." 

"  Is  there  white  glass  here  too  ?  " 

"  Of  course  !  "  answered  Zorzi  readily.  "  There  is 
half  a  jar  of  it  in  my  room.  We  keep  it  there  so 
that  the  night  boys  may  not  steal  it  a  little  at  a 
time." 

"I  see,"  answered  Giovanni.  "That  is  very  sen- 
sible." 

He  was  firmly  convinced  that  if  he  asked  Zorzi  any 
more  direct  question,  the  answer  would  be  a  falsehood, 
and  he  applauded  himself  for  stopping  at  the  point 
he  had  reached  in  his  inquiries.  For  he  was  an  experi- 
enced glass-maker  and  was  perfectly  sure  that  the 
phial  was  not  made  from  Beroviero's  ordinary  glass. 
It  followed  that  Zorzi  had  used  the  precious  book, 
and  Giovanni  inferred  that  the  rest  was  a  lucky  acci- 
dent. 

"  Will  you  sell  me  one  of  those  beautiful  things  you 
have  in  the  oven  ?  "  Giovanni  asked,  in  an  insinuating 
tone. 


270  MARIETTA 

Zorzi  hesitated.  The  master  had  often  paid  him  a 
fair  price  for  objects  he  had  made,  and  which  were 
used  in  Beroviero's  house,  as  has  been  told.  Zorzi  did- 
not  wish  to  irritate  Giovanni  by  refusing,  and  after 
all,  there  was  no  great  difference  between  being  paid 
by  old  Beroviero  or  by  his  son.  The  fact  that  he 
worked  in  glass,  which  had  been  an  open  secret  among 
the  workmen  for  a  long  time,  was  now  no  secret  at  all. 
The  question  was  rather  as  to  his  right,  being  Bero- 
viero's trusted  assistant,  to  sell  anything  out  of  the 
house. 

"Will  you?"  asked  Giovanni,  after  waiting  a  few 
moments  for  an  answer. 

"  I  would  rather  wait  until  the  master  comes  back," 
said  Zorzi  doubtfully.  "  I  am  not  quite  sure  about  it." 

"  I  will  take  all  the  responsibility,"  Giovanni 
answered  cheerfully.  "  Am  I  not  free  to  come  to  my 
father's  glass-house  and  buy  a  beaker  or  a  dish  for 
myself,  if  I  please  ?  Of  course  I  am.  But  there  is  no 
real  difference  between  buying  from  you,  on  one  side 
of  the  garden,  or  from  the  furnace  on  the  other.  Is 
there?" 

"  The  difference  is  that  in  the  one  case  you  buy  from 
the  master  and  pay  him,  but  now  you  are  offering  to 
pay  me,  who  am  already  well  paid  by  him  for  any  work 
I  may  do." 

"  You  are  very  scrupulous,"  said  Giovanni  in  a  dis- 
appointed tone.  "  Tell  me,  does  my  father  never  give 
you  anything  for  the  things  you  make,  and  which  you 
say  are  in  the  house  ?  " 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  271 

"  Oh  yes,"  answered  Zorzi  promptly.  "  He  always 
pays  me  for  them." 

"  But  that  shows  that  he  does  not  consider  them  as 
part  of  the  work  you  are  regularly  paid  to  do,  does  it 
not  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Zorzi  said,  turning  over  the  question 
in  his  mind. 

Giovanni  took  a  small  piece  of  gold  from  the  purse 
he  carried  at  his  belt,  and  he  laid  it  on  the  flat  arm  of 
the  chair  beside  him,  and  put  down  one  of  his  crooked 
forefingers  upon  it. 

"  I  cannot  see  what  objection  you  can  have,  in  that 
case.  You  know  very  well  that  young  painters  who 
work  for  masters  help  them,  but  are  always  allowed  to 
sell  anything  they  can  paint  in  their  leisure  time." 

"Yes.  That  is  true.  I  will  take  the  money,  sir, 
and  you  may  choose  any  of  the  pieces  you  like.  When 
the  master  comes,  I  will  tell  him,  and  if  I  have  no  right 
to  the  price  he  shall  keep  it  himself." 

"Do  you  really  suppose  that  my  father  would  be 
mean  enough  to  take  the  money  ? "  asked  Giovanni, 
who  would  certainly  have  taken  it  himself  under  the 
circumstances. 

"  No.  He  is  very  generous.  Nevertheless,  I  shall 
certainly  tell  him  the  whole  story." 

"  That  is  your  affair.  I  have  nothing  to  say  about 
it.  Here  is  the  money,  for  which  I  will  take  the  beaker 
I  saw  you  finishing  when  I  came  in.  Is  it  enough  ? 
Is  it  a  fair  price  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  very  good   price,"  Zorzi  answered.     "  But 


272  MARIETTA 

there  may  be  a  piece  among  those  in  the  oven  which 
you  will  like  better.  Will  you  not  come  to-morrow, 
when  they  are  all  annealed,  and  make  your  choice  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  the  piece  I  saw  you 
making." 

"Very  well.     You  shall  have  it,  and  many  thanks.'* 

"  Here  is  the  money,  and  thanks  to  you,"  said  Gio» 
vanni,  holding  out  the  little  piece  of  gold. 

"  You  shall  pay  me  when  you  take  the  beaker,"  ob- 
jected Zorzi.  "It  may  fly,  or  turn  out  badly." 

"  No,  no  I "  answered  Giovanni,  rising,  and  putting 
the  money  into  Zorzi's  hand.  "If  anything  happens 
to  it,  I  will  take  another.  I  am  afraid  that  you  may 
change  your  mind,  you  see,  and  I  am  very  anxious  to 
have  such  a  beautiful  thing." 

He  laughed  cheerfully,  nodded  to  Zorzi  and  went 
out  at  once,  almost  before  the  latter  had  time  to  rise 
from  his  seat  and  get  his  crutch  under  his  arm. 

When  he  was  alone,  Zorzi  looked  at  the  coin  and 
laid  it  on  the  table.  He  was  much  puzzled  by  Gio- 
vanni's conduct,  but  at  the  same  time  his  artist's  vanity 
was  flattered  by  what  had  happened.  Giovanni's  ad- 
miration of  the  glass  was  genuine ;  there  could  be  no 
doubt  of  that,  and  he  was  a  good  judge.  As  for  the 
work,  Zorzi  knew  quite  well  that  there  was  not  a  glass- 
blower  in  Murano  who  could  approach  him  either  in 
taste  or  skill.  Old  Beroviero  had  told  him  so  within 
the  last  few  months,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  true. 

He  would  have  been  neither  a  natural  man  nor  a 
born  artist  if  he  had  refused  to  sell  the  beaker,  out  of 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  278 

an  exaggerated  scruple.  But  the  transaction  had  shown 
him  that  his  only  chance  of  success  for  the  future  lay 
in  frankly  telling  old  Beroviero  what  he  had  done  in 
his  absence,  while  reserving  his  secret  for  himself. 
The  master  was  proud  of  him  as  his  pupil,  and  sin- 
cerely attached  to  him  as  a  man,  and  would  certainly 
not  try  to  force  him  into  explaining  how  the  glass  was 
made.  Besides,  the  glass  itself  was  there,  easily  dis- 
tinguished from  any  other,  and  Zorzi  could  neither 
hide  it  nor  throw  it  away. 

Giovanni  went  out  upon  the  footway,  and  as  he 
passed,  Pasquale  thought  he  had  never  seen  him  so 
cheerful.  The  sour  look  had  gone  out  of  his  face,  and 
he  was  actually  smiling  to  himself.  With  such  a  man 
it  would  hardly  have  been  possible  to  attribute  his 
pleased  expression  to  the  satisfaction  he  felt  in  having 
bought  Zorzi's  beaker.  He  had  never  before,  in  his 
whole  life,  parted  with  a  piece  of  gold  without  a  little 
pang  of  regret ;  but  he  had  felt  the  most  keen  and 
genuine  pleasure  just  now,  when  Zorzi  had  at  last  ac- 
cepted the  coin. 

Pasquale  watched  him  cross  the  wooden  bridge  and 
go  into  his  father's  house  opposite.  Then  the  old 
porter  shut  the  door  and  went  back  to  the  laboratory, 
walking  slowly  with  his  ugly  head  bent  a  little,  as  if 
in  deep  thought.  Zorzi  had  already  resumed  his  occu- 
pation and  had  a  lump  of  hot  glass  swinging  on  his 
blow-pipe,  his  crutch  being  under  his  right  arm. 

"Half   a  rainbow  to  windward,"  observed  the  old 
sailor.      "  There  will  be  a  squall  before  long." 
T 


274  MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF  VENICE 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Zorzi. 

"If  you  had  seen  the  Signor  Giovanni  smile,  as  he 
went  out,  you  would  know  what  I  mean,"  answered 
Pas^uale.  "  In  bur  seas,  when  we  see  the  stump  of 
a  rainbow  low  down  in  the  clouds,  we  say  it  is  the 
eye  of  the  wind,  looking  out  for  us,  and  I  can  tell  you 
that  the  wind  is  never  long  in  coming  1 " 

"  Did  you  say  anything  to  make  him  smile  ?  "  asked 
Zorzi,  going  on  with  his  work. 

"  I  am  not  a  mountebank,"  growled  the  porter.  "  I 
am  not  a  strolling  player  at  the  door  of  his  booth  at  a 
fair,  cracking  jokes  with  those  who  pass  !  But  per- 
haps it  was  you  who  said  something  amusing  to  him, 
just  before  he  left  ?  Who  knows  ?  I  always  took  you 
for  a  grave  young  man.  It  seems  that  I  was  mistaken. 
You  make  jokes.  You  cause  a  serious  person  like  the 
Signor  Giovanni  to  die  of  laughing." 


CHAPTER  XV 

GIOVANNI  sat  in  his  father's  own  room  at  home,  with 
shut  doors,  and  he  was  writing.  He  had  received  as 
good  an  education  as  any  young  nobleman  or  rich  mer- 
chant's son  in  Venice,  but  writing  was  always  irksome 
to  him,  and  he  generally  employed  a  scribe  rather  than 
take  the  pen  himself.  To-day  he  preferred  to  dispense 
with  help,  instead  of  trusting  the  discretion  of  a  secre- 
tary ;  and  this  is  what  he  was  setting  down. 

"I,  Giovanni  Beroviero,  the  son  of  Angelo,  of  Mu- 
rano,  the  glass-maker,  being  in  my  father's  absence 
and  in  his  stead  the  Master  of  our  honourable  Guild 
of  Glass-makers,  do  entr.  at  your  Magnificence  to  inter- 
fere and  act  for  the  preservation  of  our  ancient  rights 
and  privileges  and  for  the  maintenance  of  the  just  laws 
of  Venice,  and  for  the  honour  of  the  Republic,  and  for 
the  public  good  of  Murano.  There  is  a  certain  Zorzi, 
called  the  Ballarin,  who  was  a  servant  of  the  aforesaid 
Angelo  Beroviero,  a  Dalmatian  and  a  foreigner  and  a 
fellow  of  no  worth,  who  formerly  swept  the  floor  of 
the  said  Angelo's  furnace  room,  which  the  said  Angelo 
keeps  for  his  private  use.  This  fellow  therefore,  this 
foreigner,  the  said  Angelo  being  absent  on  a  long  jour- 
ney, was  left  by  him  to  watch  the  fire  in  the  said  room, 

276 


276  MARIETTA 

there  being  certain  new  glass  in  the  crucibles  of  the 
said  furnace,  which  the  said  Zorzi,  called  the  Ballarin, 
was  to  keep  hot  a  certain  number  of  days.  And  now . 
in  the  torrid  heat  of  summer,  the  canicular  days  being 
at  hand,  the  furnaces  in  the  glass-house  of  the  said 
Angelo  have  been  extinguished.  But  this  Zorzi,  called 
the  Ballarin,  although  he  has  removed  from  the  fur- 
nace of  the  said  Angelo  the  glass  which  was  to  be  kept 
hot,  does  insolently  and  defiantly  refuse  to  put  out  the 
fire  in  the  said  furnace,  and  forces  the  boys  to  make 
the  fire  all  night,  to  the  great  injury  of  their  health, 
because  the  canicular  days  are  approaching.  But  the 
said  Zorzi,  called  the  Ballarin,  like  a  raging  devil  come 
upon  earth  from  his  master  Satan,  heeds  no  heat.  And 
he  has  no  respect  of  laws,  nor  of  persons,  nor  of  the 
honourable  Guild,  nor  of  the  Republic,  working  day 
and  night  at  the  glass-blower's  art,  just  as  if  he  were 
not  a  Dalmatian,  and  a  foreigner,  and  a  low  fellow  of 
no  worth.  Moreover,  he  has  made  glass  himself,  which 
it  is  forbidden  for  any  foreigner  to  make  throughout 
the  dominions  of  the  Republic.  Moreover,  it  is  a  good 
white  glass,  which  he  could  not  have  made  if  he  had 
not  wickedly,  secretly  and  feloniously  stolen  a  book 
which  is  the  property  of  the  aforesaid  Angelo,  and 
which  contains  many  things  concerning  the  making 
of  glass.  Moreover,  this  Zorzi,  called  the  Ballarin,  is 
a  liar,  a  thief  and  an  assassin,  for  of  the  good  white 
glass  which  he  has  melted  by  means  of  the  said  An- 
gelo's  secrets,  he  makes  vessels,  such  as  phials,  am- 
pullas  and  dishes,  which  it  is  not  lawful  for  any 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  277 

foreigner  to  make.  Moreover,  in  the  vile  wickedness 
of  his  shameless  heart,  the  said  Zorzi,  called  the  Bal- 
larin,  has  the  presumption  and  effrontery  to  sell  the 
said  vessels,  openly  admitting  that  he  has  made  them. 
And  they  are  well  made,  with  diabolical  skill,  and  the 
sale  of  the  said  vessels  is  a  great  injury  to  the  glass- 
blowers  of  Murano,  and  to  the  honourable  Guild,  be- 
sides being  an  affront  to  the  Republic.  I,  the  aforesaid 
Giovanni,  was  indeed  unable  to  believe  that  such  mon- 
strous wickedness  could  exist.  I  therefore  went  into 
the  furnace  room  myself,  and  there  I  found  the  said 
Zorzi,  called  the  Ballarin,  working  alone  and  making 
a  certain  piece  in  the  form  of  a  beaker.  And  though 
he  knows  me,  that  I  am  the  son  of  his  master,  he  is  so 
lost  to  all  shame,  that  he  continued  to  work  before  me, 
as  if  he  were  a  glass-blower,  and  though  I  fanned  my- 
self in  order  not  to  die  of  heat,  he  worked  before  the 
fire,  and  felt  nothing,  raging  like  a  devil.  I  therefore 
offered  to  buy  the  beaker  he  was  making  and  I  put 
down  a  piece  of  money,  and  the  said  Zorzi,  called  the 
Ballarin,  a  liar,  a  thief  and  an  assassin,  took  the  said 
piece  of  money,  and  set  the  said  beaker  within  the 
annealing  oven  of  the  said  furnace,  wherein  I  saw 
many  other  pieces  of  fine  workmanship,  and  he  said 
that  I  should  have  the  said  beaker  when  it  was  an- 
nealed. Wherefore  I,  being  for  the  time  the  Master  of 
the  honourable  Guild  in  the  stead  of  the  said  Angelo, 
entreat  your  Magnificence  on  behalf  of  the  said  Guild 
to  interfere  and  act  for  the  preservation  of  our  ancient 
rights  and  privileges,  and  for  the  honour  of  the  Republic. 


278  MARIETTA 

Moreover,  I  entreat  your  Magnificence  to  send  a  force 
by  night,  in  order  that  there  may  be  no  scandal,  to 
take  the  said  Zorzi,  called  the  Ballarin,  and  to  bind 
him,  and  carry  him  to  Venice,  that  he  may  be  tried  for 
his  monstrous  crimes,  and  be  questioned,  even  with 
torture,  as  to  others  which  he  has  certainly  committed, 
and  be  exiled  from  all  the  dominions  of  the  Republic 
for  ever  on  pain  of  being  hanged,  that  in  this  way  our 
laws  may  be  maintained  and  our  privileges  preserved. 
Moreover,  I  will  give  any  further  information  of  the 
same  kind  which  your  Magnificence  may  desire.  At 
Murano,  in  the  house  of  Angelo  Beroviero,  my  father, 
this  third  day  of  July,  in  the  year  of  the  Salvation  of 
the  World  fourteen  hundred  and  seventy,  Giovanni 
Beroviero,  the  glass-maker." 

Giovanni  had  taken  a  long  time  in  the  composition 
of  this  remarkable  document.  He  sat  in  his  linen  shirt 
and  black  hose,  but  he  had  paused  often  to  fan  himself 
with  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from 
his  forehead,  for  although  he  was  a  lean  man  he  suf- 
fered much  from  the  heat,  owing  to  a  weakness  of  his 
heart. 

He  folded  the  two  sheets  of  his  letter  and  tied  them 
with  a  silk  string,  of  which  he  squeezed  the  knot  into 
pasty  red  wax,  which  he  worked  with  his  fingers,  and 
upon  this  he  pressed  the  iron  seal  of  the  guild,  using 
both  his  hands  and  standing  up  in  order  to  add  his 
weight  to  the  pressure.  The  missive  was  destined  for 
the  Podesta  of  Murano,  which  is  to  say,  for  the  Gov- 
ernor, who  was  a  patrician  of  Venice  and  a  most  high 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  279 

and  mighty  personage.  Giovanni  did  not  mean  to 
trust  to  any  messenger.  That  very  afternoon,  when 
he  had  slept  after  dinner,  and  the  sun  was  low,  he 
would  have  himself  rowed  to  the  Governor's  house,  and 
he  would  deliver  the  letter  himself,  or  if  possible  he 
would  see  the  dignitary  and  explain  even  more  fully 
that  Zorzi,  called  the  Ballarin,  was  a  liar,  a  thief  and 
an  assassin.  He  felt  a  good  deal  of  pride  in  what  he 
had  written  so  carefully,  and  he  was  sure  that  his  case 
was  strong.  In  another  day  or  two,  Zorzi  would  be 
gone  for  ever  from  Murano,  Giovanni  would  have  the 
precious  manuscript  in  his  possession,  and  when  old 
Beroviero  returned  Giovanni  would  use  the  book  as  a 
weapon  against  his  father,  who  would  be  furiously 
angry  to  find  his  favourite  assistant  gone.  It  was  all 
very  well  planned,  he  thought,  and  was  sure  to  succeed. 
He  would  even  take  possession  of  the  beautiful  red 
glass,  and  of  the  still  more  wonderful  white  glass  which 
Zorzi  had  made  for  himself.  By  the  help  of  the  book, 
he  should  soon  be  able  to  produce  the  same  in  his  own 
furnaces.  The  vision  of  a  golden  future  opened  before 
him.  He  would  outdo  all  the  other  glass-makers  in 
every  market,  from  Paris  to  Palermo,  from  distant 
England  to  Egyptian  Alexandria,  wheresoever  the  vast 
trade  of  Venice  carried  those  huge  bales  of  delicate 
glass,  carefully  packed  in  the  dried  seaweed  of  the 
lagoons.  Gold  would  follow  gold,  and  his  wealth 
would  increase,  till  it  became  greater  than  that  of  any 
patrician  in  Venice.  Who  could  tell  but  that,  in  time, 
the  great  exception  might  be  made  for  him,  and  he 


280  MARIETTA 

might  be  admitted  to  sit  in  the  Grand  Council,  he  and 
his  heirs  for  ever,  just  as  if  he  had  been  born  a  real 
patrician  and  not  merely  a  member  of  the  half-noble 
caste  of  glass-blowers?  Such  things  were  surely 
possible. 

In  the  cooler  hours  of  the  afternoon  he  got  into 
his  father's  gondola,  for  he  was  far  too  economical  to 
keep  one  of  his  own,  and  he  had  himself  rowed  to  the 
house  of  the  Governor,  on  the  Grand  Canal  of  Murano. 
But  at  the  door  he  was  told  that  the  official  was  in 
Venice  and  would  not  return  till  the  following  day. 
The  liveried  porter  was  not  sure  where  he  might  be 
found,  but  he  often  went  to  the  palace  of  the  Contarini, 
who  were  his  near  relations.  The  Signor  Giovanni,  to 
whom  the  porter  was  monstrously  civil,  might  give  him- 
self the  fatigue  of  being  taken  there  in  his  gondola.  In 
any  case  it  would  be  easy  to  find  the  Governor.  He 
would  perhaps  be  on  the  Grand  Canal  in  Venice  at  the 
hour  when  all  the  patricians  were  taking  the  air.  It 
was  very  probable  indeed. 

The  porter  bowed  low  as  the  gondola  pushed  off,  and 
Giovanni  leaned  back  in  the  comfortable  seat,  to  repeat 
again  and  again  in  his  mind  what  he  meant  to  say  if  he 
succeeded  in  speaking  with  the  Governor.  He  had  his 
letter  of  complaint  safe  in  his  wallet,  and  he  could 
remember  every  word  he  had  written.  In  order  to  go 
to  Venice,  the  nearest  way  was  to  return  from  the  Grand 
Canal  of  Murano  by  the  canal  of  San  Piero,  and  to  pass 
the  glass-house.  The  door  was  shut  as  usual,  and  Gio- 
vanni smiled  as  he  thought  of  how  the  city  archers 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  281 

would  go  in,  perhaps  that  very  night,  to  take  Zorzi 
away.  He  would  not  be  with  them,  but  when  they 
were  gone,  he  would  go  and  find  the  book  under  one  of 
the  stones.  When  he  had  got  it,  his  father  might  come 
home,  for  all  Giovanni  cared. 

Before  long  the  gondola  was  winding  its  way  through 
the  narrow  canals,  now  shooting  swiftly  along  a  short 
straight  stretch,  between  a  monastery  and  a  palace,  now 
brought  to  by  a  turn  of  the  hand  at  a  corner,  as  the 
man  at  the  oar  shouted  out  a  direction  meant  for  who- 
ever might  be  coming,  by  the  right  or  left,  as  one 
should  say  "  starboard  helm  "  or  "  port  helm,"  and  both 
doing  the  same,  two  vessels  pass  clear  of  one  another  ; 
and  to  this  day  the  gondoliers  of  Venice  use  the  old 
words,  and  tell  long-winded  stories  of  their  derivation 
and  first  meaning,  which  seem  quite  unnecessary.  But 
in  Beroviero's  time,  the  gondola  had  only  lately  come 
into  fashion,  and  every  one  adopted  it  quickly  because 
it  was  much  cheaper  than  keeping  horses,  and  it  was 
far  more  pleasant  to  be  taken  quickly  by  water,  by 
shorter  ways,  than  to  ride  in  the  narrow  streets,  in  the 
mud  in  winter  and  in  the  dust  in  summer,  jostling  those 
who  walked,  and  sometimes  quarrelling  with  those  who 
rode,  because  the  way  was  too  narrow  for  one  horse  to 
pass  another,  when  both  had  riders  on  their  backs. 
Moreover,  it  was  law  that  after  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning  no  man  who  had  reached  the  fig-tree  that  grew 
in  the  open  space  before  San  Salvatore,  should  ride  to 
Saint  Mark's  by  the  Merceria,  so  that  people  had  to 
walk  the  rest  of  the  way,  leaving  their  horses  to  grooms. 


282  MARIETTA 

The  gondola  was  therefore  a  great  convenience,  besides 
being  a  notable  economy,  and  old  Francesco  Sansovino 
says  that  in  his  day,  which  was  within  a  lifetime  of 
Angel o  Beroviero's,  there  were  nine  or  ten  thousand 
gondolas  in  Venice.  But  at  first  they  had  not  the  high 
peaked  stem  of  iron,  and  stem  and  stern  were  made 
almost  alike,  as  in  the  Venetian  boats  and  skiffs  of 
our  own  time. 

Giovanni  got  out  at  the  steps  of  the  Contarini  palace, 
which,  of  the  many  that  even  then  belonged  to  different 
branches  of  that  great  house,  was  distinguished  above 
all  others  by  its  marvellous  outer  winding  staircase, 
which  still  stands  in  all  its  beauty  and  slender  grace. 
But  near  the  great  palace  there  were  little  wooden 
houses  of  two  stories,  some  new  and  straight  and 
gaily  painted,  but  some  old  and  crooked,  hang- 
ing over  the  canals  so  that  they  seemed  ready  to 
topple  down,  with  crazy  outer  balconies  half  closed 
in  by  lattices  behind  which  the  women  sat  for  coolness, 
and  sometimes  even  slept  in  the  hot  months.  For 
the  great  city  of  stone  and  brick  was  not  half  built 
yet,  and  the  space  before  Saint  Mark's  was  much 
larger  than  it  is  now,  for  the  Procuratie  did  not  yet 
exist,  nor  the  clock,  but  the  great  bell -tower  stood 
almost  in  the  middle  of  an  open  square,  and  there 
were  little  wooden  booths  at  its  base,  in  which  all 
sorts  of  cheap  trinkets  were  sold.  There  were  also 
such  booths  and  small  shops  at  the  base  of  the  two 
columns.  Also,  the  bridge  of  Rialto  was  a  broad  bridge 
of  boats,  on  which  shops  were  built  on  each  side  of  the 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  283 

way,  and  the  middle  of  the  bridge  could  be  drawn  out, 
for  the  great  Bucentoro  to  pass  through,  when  the  Doge 
went  out  in  state  to  wed  the  sea. 

Giovanni  Beroviero  was  well  known  to  Contarini's 
household,  for  all  knew  of  the  approaching  marriage, 
and  the  servants  were  not  surprised  when  he  inquired 
for  the  Governor  of  Murano,  saying  that  his  business 
was  urgent.  But  the  Governor  was  not  there,  nor 
the  master  of  the  house.  They  were  gone  to  the  Grand 
Canal.  Would  the  Signor  Giovanni  like  to  speak  with 
Messer  Jacopo,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the  palace  and 
alone  ?  It  was  still  early,  and  Giovanni  thought  that 
the  opportunity  was  a  good  one  for  ingratiating  him- 
self with  his  future  brother-in-law.  He  would  go  in, 
if  he  should  not  disturb  Messer  Jacopo.  He  was 
announced  and  ushered  respectfully  into  the  great 
hall,  and  thence  up  the  broad  staircase  to  the  hall  of 
reception  above.  And  below,  his  gondoliers  gossiped 
with  the  servants,  talking  about  the  coming  marriage, 
and  many  indiscreet  things  were  said,  which  it  was 
Jbetter  that  their  masters  should  not  hear;  as  for 
instance  that  Jacopo  was  really  living  in  the  house 
of  the  Agnus  Dei,  where  he  kept  a  beautiful  Georgian 
slave  in  unheard-of  luxury,  and  that  this  was  a  great 
grief  to  his  father,  who  was  therefore  very  desirous  of 
hastening  the  marriage  with  Marietta.  The  porter 
winked  one  eye  solemnly  at  the  head  gondolier,  as 
who  should  imply  that  the  establishment  at  the 
Agnus  Dei  would  not  be  given  up  for  twenty  mar- 
riages ;  but  the  gondolier  said  boldly  that  if  Jacopo 


• 


284  MARIETTA 

did  not  change  liis  life  after  he  had  married  Mar'u 
something   would    happen    to    him.     Upon    this    th< 
porter  inquired  superciliously  what,  in  the  name  of  .j 
great  many  beings,  celestial  and  infernal,  could  pos- 
sibly happen   to   any  Contarini   who   chose   to   do   as 
he  pleased.     The  gondolier  answered  that  there  wen 
laws,    the   porter   retorted   that   the   laws  were   mad( 
for  glass-blowers  but  not  for  patricians,  and   the  tw< 
might  have  come  to  blows  if  they  had  not  just  then 
heard   their  masters'  voices  from  the   landing   of  the 
great  staircase  ;  and  of  course  it  was  far  more  impor- 
tant  to  overhear  all   they  could   of   the   conversation 
than  to  quarrel  about  a  point  of  law. 

Giovanni  was  too  full  of  his  plan  for  Zorzi's  destruc- 
tion to  resist  the  temptation  of  laying  the  whole  case 
before  Contarini,  who  was  so  soon  to  be  a  member  of 
the  family,  and  as  Jacopo,  who  was  himself  going  out, 
accompanied  his  guest  downstairs,  Giovanni  continued 
to  talk  of  the  matter  earnestly,  and  Contarini  answe] 
him  by  occasional  monosyllables  and  short  sentences 
much  interested  by  the  whole  affair,  but  wishing  thj 
Giovanni  would  go  away,  now  that  he  had  told  all. 
He  was  in  constant  fear  lest  Zorzi  should  say  some- 
thing which  might  betray  the  meetings  at  the  hou* 
of  the  Agnus  Dei,  and  had  often  regretted  that  he 
had  not  been  put  quietly  out  of  the  way,  instead  of 
being  admitted  to  the  society.  Now  after  hearing 
what  Giovanni  had  to  say,  he  had  not  the  slightest 
doubt  but  that  Zorzi  had  really  broken  the  laws,  and 
it  seemed  an  admirable  solution  of  the  whole  affair  that 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  285 

the  Dalmatian  should  be  exiled  from  the  Republic  for 
life.  That  being  settled,  he  wished  to  get  rid  of  his 
visitor,  as  Arisa  was  waiting  for  him. 

" 1  assure  you,"  Giovanni  said,  "  that  this  miserable 
Zorzi  is  a  liar,  a  thief  and  an  assassin." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Contarini  carelessly,  "  I  have  no 
doubt  of  it." 

"  The  best  thing  is  to  arrest  him  at  once,  this  very 
night,  if  possible,  and  have  him  brought  before  the 
Council." 

"Yes." 

Contarini  had  agreed  with  Giovanni  on  this  point 
already,  and  made  a  movement  to  descend,  but  Gio- 
vanni loved  to  stand  still  in  order  to  talk,  and  he  would 
not  move.  Contarini  waited  for  him. 

"It  is  important  that  some  member  of  the  Council 
should  be  informed  of  the  truth  beforehand,"  he  con- 
tinued.  "  Will  you  speak  to  your  father  about  it, 
Messer  Jacopo  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Contarini,  and  he  spoke  the  word 
intentionally  with  great  emphasis,  in  the  hope  that 
Giovanni  would  be  finally  satisfied  and  go  away. 

"You  will  be  conferring  a  benefit  on  the  city  of 
Murano,''  said  Giovanni  in  a  tone  of  gratitude,  and 
this  time  he  began  to  come  down  the  steps. 

The  gondolier  had  heard  every  word  that  had  been 
said,  as  well  as  the  servants  in  the  lower  hall  ;  but  to 
them  the  conversation  had  no  especial  meaning,  as 
they  knew  nothing  of  Zorzi.  To  the  gondolier,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  was  devoted  to  his  master  and 


286  MARIETTA 

detested  his  master's  son,  it  meant  much,  though  his 
stolid  face  did  not  betray  the  slightest  intelligence. 

Giovanni  took  leave  of  Contarini  with  much  cera- 
mony,  a  little  too  much,  Jacopo  thought. 

"To  the  Grand  Canal,"  said  Giovanni  as  the  gon- 
dolier helped  him  to  get  in,  and  he  backed  under  the 
4 f else.'  "Try  and  find  the  Governor  of  Murano,  and 
if  you  see  him,  take  me  alongside  his  gondola." 

The  sun  was  now  low,  and  as  the  light  craft  shot 
out  at  last  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  the  breeze  came  up 
from  the  land,  cool  and  refreshing.  Scores  of  gon- 
dolas were  moving  up  and  down,  some  with  the  black 
4  f else,'  some  without,  and  in  the  latter  there  were 
beautiful  women,  whose  sun-dyed  hair  shone  resplen- 
dent under  the  thin  embroidered  veils  that  loosely 
covered  it.  They  wore  silk  and  satin  of  rich  hues, 
and  jewels,  and  some  were  clad  in  well-fitting  bodices 
that  were  nets  of  thin  gold  cord  drawn  close  over 
velvet,  with  lawn  sleeves  gathered  to  the  fore-arm  and 
the  upper-arm  by  netting  of  seed  pearls.  Beside  some 
of  them  sat  their  husbands  or  their  fathers,  in  robes 
and  mantles  of  satin  and  silk,  or  in  wide  coats  of  rich 
stuff,  open  at  the  neck  ;  bearded  men,  straight-fea- 
tured, and  often  very  pale,  wearing  great  puffed  caps 
set  far  back  on  their  smooth  hair,  their  white  hands 
playing  with  their  gloves,  their  dark  eyes  searching 
out  from  afar  the  faces  of  famous  beauties,  or,  if  they 
were  grey-haired  men,  fixed  thoughtfully  before  them. 

Over  all  the  evening  light  descended  like  a  mist  of 
gold,  reflected  from  the  sculptured  walls  of  palaces, 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  287 

where  marble  columns  and  light  traceries  of  stone 
were  dyed  red  and  orange  and  almost  purple  by  the 
setting  sun,  and  nestling  among  the  carved  beams  and 
far-projecting  balconies  of  wooden  houses  that  over- 
hung the  canal,  gilding  the  water  itself  where  the 
broad-bladed  oars  struck  deep  and  churned  it,  and 
swept  aft,  and  steered  with  a  poising,  feathering  back- 
stroke, or  where  tiny  waves  were  dashed  up  by  a 
gondola's  bright  iron  stem.  Slowly  the  water  turned 
to  wine  below,  the  clear  outlines  of  the  palaces  stood 
out  less  sharply  against  the  paling  sky,  the  golden 
cloudlets,  floating  behind  the  great  tower  of  Saint 
Mark's  presently  faded  to  wreaths  of  delicate  mist. 
The  bells  rung  out  from  church  and  monastery,  far 
and  near,  till  the  air  was  filled  with  a  deep  music,  tell- 
ing all  Venice  that  the  day  was  done. 

Then  the  many  voices  that  had  echoed  in  greeting 
and  in  laughter,  from  boat  to  boat,  were  hushed  a 
moment,  and  almost  every  man  took  off  his  hat  or  cap, 
the  robed  Councillor  and  the  gondolier  behind  him ; 
and  also  a  good  number  of  the  great  ladies  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  and  were  silent  a  while.  It  was  the 
hour  when  Venice  puts  forth  her  stealing  charm,  when 
the  terrible  distinctness  of  her  splendour  grows  gentle 
and  almost  human,  and  the  little  mystery  of  each 
young  life  rises  from  the  heart  to  hold  converse  with 
the  sweet,  mysterious  all.  Through  the  long  day  the 
palaces  look  down  consciously  at  themselves,  mirrored 
in  the  calm  water  where  they  stand,  and  each  seems 
to  say  "  I  am  finer  than  you,"  or  "  My  master  is  still 


288  MARIETTA 

richer  than  yours,"  or  "  You  are  going  to  ruin  faster 
than  I  am,"  or  "  I  was  built  by  a  Lombardo,"  or  "  I  by 
Sansovino,"  and  the  violent  light  is  ever  there  to  bear 
witness  of  the  truth  of  what  each  says.  Within,  with- 
out, in  hall  and  church  and  gallery,  there  is  perpetual 
brightness  and  perpetual  silence.  But  at  the  evening 
hour,  now,  as  in  old  times,  a  spirit  takes  Venice  and 
folds  it  in  loving  arms,  whispering  words  that  are  not 
even  guessed  by  day. 

The  Ave  Maria  had  not  ceased  ringing  when' 
Giovanni's  gondolier  came  up  with  the  Governor  of 
Murano.  He  was  alone,  and  at  his  invitation  Giovanni 
left  his  own  craft  and  sat  down  beside  the  patrician, 
whose  gondola  was  uncovered  for  coolness.  Giovanni 
talked  earnestly  in  low  tones,  holding  his  sealed  letter 
in  his  hand,  while  his  own  oarsman  watched  him  closely 
in  the  advancing  dusk,  but  was  too  wise  to  try  to  over- 
hear what  was  said.  He  knew  well  enough  now  what 
Giovanni  wanted  of  the  Governor,  and  what  he  ob- 
tained. 

"  Not  to-night,"  the  Governor  said  audibly,  as  Gio- 
vanni returned  to  his  own  gondola.  "To-morrow." 

Giovanni  turned  before  getting  under  the  'felse,* 
bowed  low  as  he  stood  up  and  said  a  few  words  of 
thanks,  which  the  Governor  could  hardly  have  heard 
as  his  boat  shot  ahead,  though  he  made  one  more 
gracious  gesture  with  his  hand.  The  shadows  de- 
scended quickly  now,  and  everywhere  the  little  lights 
came  out,  from  latticed  balconies  and  palace  windows 
left  open  to  let  in  the  cool  air,  and  from  the  silently 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  289 

gliding  gondolas  that  each  carried  a  small  lamp  ;  and 
here  and  there  between  tall  houses  the  young  summer 
moon  fell  across  the  black  water,  rippling  under  the 
freshening  breeze,  and  it  was  like  a  shower  of  silver 
falling  into  a  widow's  lap. 

But  Giovanni  saw  none  of  these  things,  and  if  he 
had  looked  out  of  the  small  windows  of  the  4  felse,'  he 
would  not  have  cared  to  see  them,  for  beauty  did  not 
appeal  to  him  in  nature  any  more  than  in  art,  except 
that  in  the  latter  it  was  a  cause  of  value  in  things. 
Besides,  as  he  suffered  from  the  heat  all  day,  he  was 
afraid  of  being  chilled  at  evening  ;  so  he  sat  inside  the 
'felse,'  gloating  over  the  success  of  his  trip.  The 
Governor,  who  knew  nothing  of  Zorzi  but  was  well 
aware  of  Giovanni's  importance  in  Murano,  had 
readily  consented  to  arrest  the  poor  Dalmatian  who 
was  represented  as  such  a  dangerous  person,  besides 
being  a  liar  and  other  things,  and  Giovanni  had  par- 
ticularly requested  that  the  force  sent  should  be 
sufficient  to  overpower  the  "raging  devil"  at  once 
and  without  scandal.  He  judged  that  ten  men  would 
suffice  for  this,  he  said.  The  fact  was  that  he  feared 
some  resistance  on  the  part  of  Pasquale,  whom  he  knew 
to  be  a  friend  to  Zorzi.  He  had  carefully  abstained 
from  alluding  to  Zorzi's  lameness,  lest  the  mere  men- 
tion of  it  should  excite  some  compassion  in  his  hearer. 
He  had  in  fact  done  everything  to  assure  the  success  of 
his  scheme,  except  the  one  thing  which  was  the  most 
necessary  of  all.  He  had  allowed  himself  to  speak  of 
it  in  the  hearing  of  the  gondolier  who  hated  him, 
u 


290  MARIETTA 

and  who  lost  no  time  in  making  use  of  the  infor- 
mation. 

It  was  nearly  supper- time  when  he  deposited  Gio-, 
vanni  at  the  steps  of  the  house  and  took  the  gondola 
round  to  the  narrow  canal  in  which  the  boats  lay,  and 
which  was  under  Nella's  window.  The  shutters  were 
wide  open,  and  there  was  a  light  within.  He  called 
the  serving-woman  by  name,  and  she  looked  out,  and 
asked  what  he  wanted.  Then,  as  now,  gojndoliers 
worked  indoors  like  the  servants  when  not  busy  with 
the  boats,  and  slept  in  the  house.  The  man  was  on 
friendly  terms  with  Nella,  who  liked  him  because  he 
thought  her  mistress  the  most  perfect  creature  in  the 
world. 

"I  have  ripped  the  arm  of  my  doublet,"  he  said. 
"Can  you  mend  it  for  me  this  evening?" 

"  Bring  it  up  to  me  now,"  answered  Nella.  "  There 
is  time  before  supper.  You  can  wait  outside  my  room 
while  I  do  it.  My  mistress  is  already  gone  down- 
stairs." 

"You  are  an  angel,"  observed  the  gondolier  from 
below.  "  The  only  thing  you  need  is  a  husband." 

"  You  have  guessed  wrong,"  answered  Nella  with  a 
little  laugh.  "That  is  the  only  thing  I  do  not  need." 

She  disappeared,  and  the  gondolier  went  round  by 
the  back  of  the  house  to  the  side  door,  in  order  to  go 
upstairs.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  while  she  stood  in 
her  doorway,  and  he  in  the  passage  without,  he  had  told 
her  all  he  knew  of  Giovanni's  evil  intentions  against 
Zorzi,  including  the  few  words  which  the  Governor  had 
spoken  audibly.  The  torn  sleeve  was  an  invention. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  291 

Giovanni  was  visibly  elated  at  supper,  a  circumstance 
which  pleased  his  wife  but  inspired  Marietta  with  some 
distrust.  She  had  never  felt  any  sympathy  for  the 
brother  who  was  so  much  older  than  herself,  and  who 
took  a  view  of  things  which  seemed  to  her  sordid,  and 
she  did  not  like  to  see  him  sitting  in  her  father's  place, 
often  talking  of  the  house  as  if  it  were  already  his,  and 
dictating  to  her  upon  matters  of  conduct  as  well  as 
upon  questions  of  taste.  Everything  he  said  jarred  on 
her,  but  as  yet  she  had  no  idea  that  he  had  any  plans 
against  Zorzi,  and  being  of  a  reserved  character  she 
often  took  no  trouble  to  answer  what  he  said,  except 
to  bend  her  head  a  little  to  acknowledge  that  he  had 
said  it.  When  she  was  alone  with  her  father,  she 
loved  to  sit  with  him  after  supper  in  the  big  room, 
working  by  the  clear  light  of  the  olive  oil  lamp,  while 
he  sat  in  his  great  chair  and  talked  to  her  of  his  work. 
He  had  told  her  far  more  than  he  realised  of  his  secret 
processes  as  well  as  of  his  experiments,  and  she  had 
remembered  it,  for  she  alone  of  his  children  had  in- 
herited his  true  love  and  understanding  of  the  noble 
art  of  glass-making. 

But  now  that  he  was  away,  Giovanni  generally 
spent  the  evening  in  instructing  his  wife  how  to  save 
money,  and  she  listened  meekly  enough  to  what  he  told 
her,  for  she  was  a  modest  little  woman,  of  colourless 
character,  brought  up  to  have  no  great  opinion  of  her- 
self, though  her  father  was  a  rich  merchant;  and  she 
looked  upon  her  husband  as  belonging  to  a  superior 
class.  Marietta  found  the  conversation  intolerable  and 


292  MARIETTA 

she  generally  left  the  couple  together  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  after  supper  was  over  and  went  to  her  own  room, 
where  she  worked  a  little  and  listened  to  Nella's  prattle, 
and  sometimes  answered  her.  She  was  living  in  a  state 
of  half-suspended  thought,  and  was  glad  to  let  the  time 
pass  as  it  would,  provided  it  passed  at  all. 

This  evening,  as  usual,  she  bade  her  brother  and  his 
wife  good  night,  and  went  upstairs.  Nella  had  learned 
to  expect  her  and  was  waiting  for  her.  To  her  sur- 
prise, Nella  shut  the  window  as  soon  as  she  entered. 

"  Leave  it  open,"  she  said.  "  It  is  hot  this  evening. 
Why  did  you  shut  it?  You  never  do." 

"  A  window  is  an  ear,"  answered  Nella  mysteriously. 
"The  nights  are  still  and  voices  carry  far." 

"  What  great  secret  are  you  going  to  talk  of  ?  "  in- 
quired Marietta,  with  a  careless  smile,  as  she  drew  the 
long  pins  from  her  hair  and  let  the  heavy  braids  fall 
behind  her. 

"  Bad  news,  bad  news  !  "  Nella  repeated.  "  The 
young  master  is  doing  things  which  he  ought  not  to 
do,  because  they  are  very  unjust  and  spiteful.  I  am 
only  a  poor  serving-woman,  but  I  would  bite  off  my 
fingers,  like  this "  —  and  she  bit  them  sharply  and 
shook  them  —  "before  I  would  let  them  do  such 
things  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Nella  ?  "  asked  Marietta.  "  You 
must  not  speak  of  my  brother  in  that  way." 

"  Your  brother  !  Eh,  your  brother  !  "  cried  Nella  in 
a  low  and  angry  voice,  quite  unlike  her  own.  "  Do 
you  know  what  your  brother  has  done  ?  He  has  been 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  293 

to  Messer  Jacopo  Contarini,  your  betrothed  husband, 
and  he  has  told  him  that  Zorzi  is  a  liar,  a  thief  and  an 
assassin,  and  that  he  will  have  him  arrested  to-night, 
if  he  can,  and  Messer  Jacopo  promised  that  his  father, 
who  is  of  the  Council,  shall  have  Zorzi  condemned  ! 
And  your  brother  has  seen  the  Governor  of  Murano 
in  Venice,  and  has  given  him  a  great  letter,  and  the 
Governor  said  that  it  should  not  be  to-night,  but 
to-morrow.  That  is  the  sort  of  man  your  brother  is." 

Marietta  was  standing.  She  had  turned  slowly  pale 
while  Nella  was  speaking,  and  grasped  the  back  of  a 
chair  with  both  hands.  She  thought  she  was  going  to 
faint. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MARIETTA'S  heart  stood  still,  as  she  bent  over  the 
back  of  the  chair  holding  it  with  both  her  hands,  but 
feeling  that  she  was  falling.  She  had  expected  any- 
thing but  this,  when  Nella  had  begun  to  speak.  The 
blow  was  sudden  and  heavy,  and  she  herself  had  never 
known  how  much  she  could  be  hurt,  until  that  moment. 

Nella  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  The  serving- 
woman  had  changed  her  mind  about  Zorzi  of  late,  and 
had  grown  fond  of  him  in  taking  care  of  him.  But 
her  anger  against  Giovanni  was  roused  rather  because 
what  he  was  about  to  do  was  an  affront  to  his  father, 
her  master,  than  out  of  mere  sympathy  for  the  intended 
victim.  She  was  far  from  understanding  what  could 
have  so  deeply  moved  Marietta. 

"  You  see,'*  she  said  triumphantly,  "  what  sort  of  a 
brother  you  have  !  " 

The  sound  of  her  voice  recalled  the  young  girl  just 
when  she  felt  that  she  was  losing  consciousness.  Her 
first  instinct  was  to  go  to  Zorzi  and  warn  him.  He 
must  escape  at  once.  The  Governor  had  said  that  it 
should  be  to-morrow,  but  he  might  change  his  mind 
and  send  his  men  to-night.  There  was  no  time  to  be 
lost,  she  must  go  instantly.  As  she  stood  upright  she 

294 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF   VENICE  295 

could  see  the  porter's  light  shining  through  the  small 
grated  window,  for  Pasquale  was  still  awake,  but  in  a 
few  minutes  the  light  would  go  out.  She  had  often 
been  at  her  own  window  at  that  hour,  and  had  watched 
it,  wondering  whether  Zorzi  would  work  far  into  the 
night,  and  whether  he  was  thinking  of  her. 

It  would  be  easy  to  slip  out  by  the  side  door  and  run 
across.  No  one  would  know,  except  Nella  and  Pas- 
quale, but  she  would  have  preferred  that  only  the  latter 
should  be  in  the  secret.  She  was  still  dressed,  though 
her  hair  was  undone,  and  the  hood  of  a  thin  silk  mantle 
would  hide  that.  Her  mind  reasoned  by  instantaneous 
flashes  now,  and  she  had  full  control  of  herself  again. 
She  would  tell  Nella  that  she  was  going  downstairs 
again  for  a  little  while,  and  she  would  also  tell  her  to 
make  an  infusion  of  lime  flowers  and  to  bring  it  in  half 
an  hour  and  wait  for  her.  Down  the  main  staircase  to 
the  landing,  down  the  narrow  stairs  in  the  dark,  out 
into  the  street  —  it  would  not  take  long,  and  she  would 
tap  very  softly  at  the  door  of  the  glass-house. 

When  she  said  that  she  would  go  down  again,  Nella 
suspected  nothing.  On  the  contrary  she  thought  her 
mistress  was  wise. 

"You  will  lead  on  the  Signer  Giovanni  to  talk  of 
Zorzi,"  she  said.  "  You  will  learn  something." 

"  And  make  me  a  drink  of  lime  flowers,"  continued 
Marietta.  "  The  housekeeper  has  plenty." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  answered  Nella.  "Shall  you 
come  up  again  soon  ?  " 

"  Be  here  in  half  an  hour  with  the  drink,  and  wait 


296  MARIETTA 

for  me.  You  had  better  go  for  the  lime  flowers  before 
the  housekeeper  is  asleep.  I  will  twist  my  hair  up 
again  before  I  go  down." 

Nella  nodded  and  disappeared,  for  the  housekeeper 
generally  went  to  bed  very  early.  As  soon  as  she 
was  out  of  the  room  Marietta  took  her  silk  cloak  and 
wrapped  herself  in  it,  drawing  the  end  over  her  head, 
so  as  to  hide  her  hair  and  shade  her  face.  She  was 
pale  still,  but  her  lips  were  tightly  closed  and  her 
eyelids  a  little  drawn  together,  as  she  left  the  room. 
She  met  no  one  on  the  stairs.  In  the  dark,  when  she 
reached  the  door,  she  could  feel  the  oak  bar  that  was 
set  across  it  at  night,  and  she  slipped  it  back  into  its 
hole  in  the  wall,  without  making  much  noise.  She 
lifted  the  latch  and  went  out. 

The  night  was  still  and  clear,  and  the  young  moon 
was  setting.  If  any  one  had  been  looking  out  she 
must  have  been  seen  as  she  crossed  the  wooden  bridge, 
and  she  glanced  nervously  back  at  the  open  windows. 
There  were  lights  in  the  big  room,  and  she  heard  Gio- 
vanni's monotonous  voice,  as  he  talked  to  his  wife. 
But  there  was  shadow  under  the  glass-house,  and  a 
moment  later  she  was  tapping  softly  at  the  door. 
Pasquale  looked  down  from  the  grating,  and  was 
about  to  say  something  uncomplimentary  when  he 
recognised  her,  for  he  could  see  very  well  when  there 
was  little  light,  like  most  sailors.  He  opened  the  door 
at  once,  and  stood  aside  to  let  Marietta  enter. 

"  Shut  the  door  quickly,"  she  whispered,  "  and  do  not 
open  it  for  anybody,  till  I  come  out." 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE       y  297 

Pasquale  obeyed  in  silence.  He  knew  as  well  as  she 
did  that  Giovanni  was  sitting  in  the  big  room,  with 
open  windows,  within  easy  hearing  of  ordinary  sounds. 
A  feeble  light  came  through  the  open  door  of  the 
porter's  lodge. 

"  Is  Zorzi  awake  ? "  Marietta  asked  in  a  low  tone, 
when  both  had  gone  a  few  steps  down  the  corridor. 

"  Yes.  He  will  sleep  little  to-night,  for  the  boys  have 
not  come,  and  he  must  tend  the  fire  himself." 

Marietta  guessed  that  her  brother  had  given  the 
order,  so  that  Zorzi  might  be  left  quite  alone. 

"Pasquale,"  she  said,  "I  can  trust  you,  I  am  sure. 
You  are  a  good  friend  to  Zorzi." 

The  porter  growled  something  incoherent,  but  she 
understood  what  he  meant. 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  I  trust  you,  and  you  must 
trust  me.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should 
speak  with  Zorzi  alone  to-night.  No  one  knows  that 
I  have  left  the  house,  and  no  one  must  know  that  I 
have  been  here." 

The  old  sailor  had  seen  much  in  his  day,  but  he  was 
profoundly  astonished  at  Marietta's  audacity. 

"  You  are  the  mistress,"  he  said  in  a  grave  and  quiet 
voice  that  Marietta  had  never  heard  before.  "  But  I 
am  an  old  man,  and  I  cannot  help  telling  you  that  it  is 
not  seemly  for  a  young  girl  to  be  alone  at  night  with 
a  young  man,  in  the  place  where  he  lives.  You  will 
forgive  me  for  saying  so,  because  I  have  served  your 
father  a  long  time." 

"You   are  quite  right,"  answered  Marietta.     "But 


298  MARIETTA 

in  matters  of  life  and  death  there  is  nothing  seemly 
or  unseemly.  I  have  not  time  to  explain  all  this. 
Zorzi  is  in  great  danger.  For  my  father's  sake  I 
must  warn  him,  and  I  cannot  stay  out  long.  Not 
even  Nella  must  know  that  I  am  here.  Be  ready  to 
let  me  out." 

She  almost  ran  down  the  corridor  to  the  garden. 
The  moon  was  already  too  low  to  shine  upon  the  walk, 
but  the  beams  silvered  the  higher  leaves  of  the  plane- 
tree,  and  all  was  clear  and  distinct.  Even  in  her 
haste,  she  glanced  at  the  place  where  she  had  so  often 
sat,  before  her  life  had  begun  to  change. 

There  was  a  strong  light  in  the  laboratory  and  the 
window  was  open.  She  looked  in  and  saw  Zorzi  sit- 
ting in  the  great  chair,  his  head  leaning  back  and  his 
eyes  closed.  He  was  so  pale  and  worn  that  she  felt 
a  sharp  pain  as  her  eyes  fell  on  his  face.  His  crutch 
was  beside  him,  and  he  seemed  to  be  asleep.  It  was 
a  pity  to  wake  him,  she  thought,  yet  she  could  not  lose 
time;  she  had  lost  too  much  already  in  talking  with 
Pasquale. 

"  Zorzi !  "     She  called  him  softly. 

He  started  in  his  sleep,  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and 
tried  to  spring  up  without  his  crutch,  for  he  fancied 
himself  in  a  dream.  She  had  thrown  back  the  drapery 
that  covered  her  head  and  the  bright  light  fell  upon 
her  face.  It  hurt  her  again  to  see  how  he  staggered 
and  put  out  his  hand  for  his  accustomed  support. 

"I    am    coming  in,"   she   said   quietly.      "Do   n< 
move,  unless  the  door  is  locked," 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  299 

i 

She  met  him  before  he  was  half  across  the  room. 
Instinctively  she  put  out  her  hand  to  help  him  back 
to  his  chair.  Then  she  understood  that  he  did  not 
need  it,  for  he  was  much  better  now.  She  saw  that 
he  looked  to  the  window,  expecting  to  see  Nella,  and 
she  smiled. 

"  I  am  alone,"  she  said.  "  You  see  how  I  trust  you. 
Only  Pasquale  knows  that  I  am  here.  You  must  sit 
down,  and  I  will  sit  beside  you,  for  I  have  much  to 
say." 

He  looked  at  her  in  silent  wonder  for  a  moment, 
happy  beyond  words  to  be  with  her,  but  very  anxious 
as  to  the  reasons  which  could  have  brought  her  to  him 
at  such  an  hour  and  quite  alone.  Her  manner  was  so 
quiet  and  decided  that  it  did  not  even  occur  to  him 
to  protest  against  her  coming,  and  he  sat  down  as  she 
bade  him,  but  on  the  bench,  arid  she  seated  herself  in 
the  chair,  turning  in  it  so  that  she  could  see  his  face. 
They  were  near  enough  to  speak  in  low  tones. 

"  My  brother  Giovanni  hates  you,"  she  began.  "  He 
means  to  ruin  you,  if  he  can,  before  my  father  comes 
home." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  him,"  said  Zorzi,  speaking  for 
the  first  time  since  she  had  entered.  "  Let  him  do  his 
worst." 

"You  do  not  know  what  his  worst  is,"  answered 
Marietta,  "  and  he  has  got  Messer  Jacopo  Contarini  to 
help  him.  You  are  surprised?  Yes.  My  betrothed 
husband  has  promised  to  speak  with  his  father  against 
you,  at  once.  You  know  that  he  is  of  the  Council." 


300  MARIETTA 

Zorzi's  face  expressed  the  utmost  astonishment, 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  it  is  Jacopo  Contarini  ? ' 
he  asked,  as  if  unable  to  believe  what  she  said. 

"  Is  it  likely  that  I  should  be  mistaken  ?  My  brother 
was  with  him  this  afternoon  at  the  palace,  our  gondo- 
lier heard  them  talking  on  the  stairs  as  they  came 
down.  He  told  Nella,  and  she  has  just  told  me. 
Giovanni  heaped  all  sorts  of  abuse  on  you,  and  Messer 
Jacopo  agreed  with  all  he  said.  Then  they  spoke  of 
arresting  you  and  bringing  you  to  justice,  and  they 
talked  of  the  Council.  After  that  Giovanni  met  the 
Governor  of  Murano  and  got  into  his  gondola,  and  they 
talked  in  a  low  tone.  My  brother  gave  him  a  sealed 
document,  and  the  Governor  said  that  it  should  not  be 
to-night,  but  to-morrow.  That  is  all  I  know,  but  it  is 
enough." 

Zorzi  half  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  in  deep 
thought ;  and  in  a  flash  he  understood  that  Contarini 
wished  him  out  of  the  way,  and  was  taking  the  first 
means  that  offered  to  get  rid  of  him.  To  keep  faith 
with  such  a  man  would  be  as  foolish  as  to  expect  any 
faithfulness  from  him.  Zorzi  opened  his  eyes  again, 
and  looked  at  the  face  of  the  woman  he  loved.  His 
oath  to  the  society  had  stood  between  him  and  her,  and 
he  knew  that  it  was  no  longer  binding  on  him,  since 
Jacopo  Contarini  was  helping  to  send  him  to  destruc- 
tion. Yet  now  that  it  was  gone,  he  saw  also  that  it 
had  been  the  least  of  the  obstacles  that  made  up  the 
barrier. 

"Of  what  do  they  accuse   me?"  he   asked,  after  a 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  801 

moment's  silence.  "What  can  they  prove  against 
me?" 

"I  cannot  tell.  It  matters  very  little.  Do  you 
understand  ?  To-morrow,  if  not  to-night,  the  Govern- 
or's men  will  come  here  to  arrest  you,  and  if  you  have 
not  escaped,  you  will  be  imprisoned  and  taken  before 
the  Council.  They  may  accuse  you  of  being  involved 
in  a  conspiracy  —  they  may  torture  you." 

She  shivered  at  the  thought,  and  looked  into  his 
dark  eyes  with  fear  and  pity.  His  lip  curled  a  little 
disdainfully. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  shall  run  away  ? "  he  asked. 

"  You  will  not  stay  here,  and  let  them  arrest  you  I  n 
cried  Marietta  anxiously. 

"  Your  father  left  me  here  to  take  care  of  what  be- 
longs to  him,  and  there  is  much  that  is  valuable.  I 
thank  you  very  much  for  warning  me,  but  I  know 
what  your  brother  means  to  do,  and  I  shall  not  go 
away  of  my  own  accord.  If  he  can  have  me  taken  off 
by  force,  he  will  come  here  alone  and  search  the  place. 
If  he  searches  long  enough,  he  may  find  what  he  wants." 

"  Is  Paolo  Godi's  manuscript  in  this  room  ?  "  asked 
Marietta  quietly. 

Zorzi  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  your  father  left  it  with 
me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"He  would  not  have  entrusted  it  to  any  one  else. 
That  is  natural.  My  brother  wants  it.  Is  that  the 
reason  why  you  will  not  escape  ?  Or  is  there  any 
other?" 


302  MARIETTA 

"That  is  the  principal  reason,"  answered  Zorzi. 
"Another  is  that  there  is  valuable  glass  here,  which 
your  brother  would  take." 

"Which  he  would  steal,"  said  Marietta  bitterly. 
"  But  Pasquale  can  bury  it  in  the  garden  after  you  are 
gone.  The  principal  thing  is  the  book.  Give  it  to 
me.  I  will  take  care  of  it  till  my  father  comes  back. 
Until  then  you  must  hide  somewhere,  for  it  is  mad- 
ness to  stay  here.  Give  me  the  book,  and  let  me  take 
it  away  at  once." 

"  I  cannot  give  it  to  you,"  Zorzi  said,  with  a  puzzled 
expression  which  Marietta  did  not  understand. 

"  You  do  not  trust  me,"  she  answered  sadly. 

He  did  not  reply  at  once,  for  the  words  made  no 
impression  on  him  when  he  heard  them.  He  trusted 
her  altogether,  but  there  was  a  material  difficulty  in 
the  way.  He  remembered  how  long  it  had  taken  to 
hide  the  iron  box  under  broken  glass,  and  he  knew 
how  long  it  would  take  to  get  it  out  again.  Marietta 
could  not  stay  in  the  laboratory,  late  into  the  night, 
and  yet  if  she  did  not  take  the  box  with  her  now,  she 
might  not  be  able  to  take  it  at  all,  since  neither  she 
nor  Nella  could  have  carried  it  to  the  house  by  day, 
without  being  seen. 

Marietta  rested  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  big 
chair,  and  her  hand  supported  her  chin,  in  an  attitude 
of  thought,  as  she  looked  steadily  at  Zorzi's  face,  and 
her  own  was  grave  and  sad. 

"  You  never  trusted  me,"  she  said  presently.  "  Yet 
I  have  been  a  good  friend  to  you,  have  I  not  ?  " 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  303 

"  A  friend  ?  Oh,  much  more  than  that  I  "  Zorzi 
turned  his  eyes  from  her.  "  I  trust  you  with  all  my 
heart." 

She  shook  her  head  incredulously. 

"  If  you  trusted  me,  you  would  do  what  I  ask,"  she 
said.  "I  have  risked  something  to  help  you  —  per- 
haps to  save  your  life  —  who  knows  ?  Do  you  know 
what  would  happen  if  my  brother  found  me  here  alone 
with  you  ?  I  should  end  my  life  in  a  convent.  But 
if  you  will  not  save  yourself,  I  might  as  well  not  have 
come." 

"  I  would  give  you  the  book  if  I  could,"  answered 
Zorzi.  "But  I  cannot.  It  is  hidden  in  such  a  way 
that  it  would  take  a  long  time  to  get  it  out.  That  is 
the  simple  truth.  Your  father  and  I  had  buried  it 
here  under  the  stones,  but  somehow  your  brother 
suspected  that,  and  I  have  changed  the  hiding-place. 
It  took  a  whole  morning  to  do  it." 

Still  Marietta  did  not  quite  believe  that  he  could 
not  give  it  to  her  if  he  chose.  It  seemed  as  if  there 
must  always  be  a  shadow  between  them,  when  they 
were  together,  always  the  beginning  of  a  misunder- 
standing. 

"  Where  is  it  ? "  she  asked,  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation. "  If  you  are  in  earnest  you  will  tell  me." 

"  It  is  better  that  you  should  know,  in  case  anything 
happens  to  me,"  answered  Zorzi.  "  It  is  buried  in  that 
big  jar,  in  some  three  feet  of  broken  glass.  I  had  to 
take  the  glass  out  bit  by  bit,  and  put  it  all  back 
again." 


304  MARIETTA 

As  Marietta  looked  at  the  jar,  a  little  colour  rose 
in  her  face  again. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  know  you  trust  me, 
now." 

"  I  always  have,"  he  answered  softly,  "  and  I  always 
shall,  even  when  you  are  married  to  Jacopo  Contarini." 

"  That  is  still  far  off.  Let  us  not  talk  of  it.  You 
must  get  ready  to  leave  this  place  before  morning. 
You  must  take  the  skiff  and  get  away  to  the  mainland, 
if  you  can,  for  till  my  father  comes  you  will  not  be  safe 
in  Venice." 

"I  shall  not  go  away,"  said  Zorzi  firmly.  "They 
may  not  try  to  arrest  me  after  all." 

"  But  they  will,  I  know  they  will ! "  All  her  anxiety 
for  him  came  back  in  a  moment.  "  You  must  go  at 
once  I  Zorzi,  to  please  me  —  for  my  sake — leave  to- 
night !  " 

"  For  your  sake  ?  There  is  nothing  I  would  not  do 
for  your  sake,  except  be  a  coward." 

"  But  it  is  not  cowardly  !  "  pleaded  Marietta. 
"There  is  nothing  else  to  be  done,  and  if  my  father 
could  know  what  you  risk  by  staying,  he  would  tell 
you  to  go,  as  I  do.  Please,  please,  please  — " 

"  I  cannot,"  he  answered  stubbornly. 

"  Oh,  Zorzi,  if  you  have  the  least  friendship  for  me. 
do  what  I  ask  !  Do  you  not  see  that  I  am  half  mad 
with  anxiety  ?  I  entreat  you,  I  beg  you,  I  implore 
you  —  " 

Their  eyes  met,  and  hers  were  wide  with  fear  for 
him,  and  earnestness,  and  they  were  not  quite  dry. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  305 

"  Do  you  care  so  much  ?  "  asked  Zorzi,  hardly  know- 
ing what  he  said.  "Does  it  matter  so  much  to  you 
what  becomes  of  me  ?  " 

He  moved  nearer  on  the  bench.  Leaning  towards 
her,  where  he  sat,  he  could  rest  his  elbow  on  the  broad 
arm  of  the  low  chair,  and  so  look  into  her  face.  She 
covered  her  eyes,  and  shook  a  little,  and  her  mantle 
slipped  from  her  shoulders  and  trembled  as  it  settled 
down  into  the  chair.  He  leaned  farther,  till  he  was 
close  to  her,  and  he  tried  to  uncovtr  her  eyes,  very 
gently,  but  she  resisted.  His  heart  beat  slowly  and 
hard,  like  strokes  of  a  hammer,  and  his  hands  were 
shaking,  when  he  drew  her  nearer.  Presently  he  him- 
self sat  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair,  holding  her  close  to 
him,  and  she  let  him  press  her  Le.xl  to  his  breast,  for 
she  could  not  think  any  more  ;  and  all  at  once  her 
hands  slipped  down  and  she  was  resting  in  the  hollow 
of  his  arm,  looking  up  to  his  face. 

It  seemed  a  long  time,  as  long  as  whole  years,  since 
she  had  meant  to  drop  another  ro  e  in  his  path,  or  even 
since  she  had  suffered  him  to  press  her  hand  for  a 
moment.  The  whole  tale  was  toid  now,  in  one  touch, 
in  one  look,  with  little  resistance  nd  less  fear. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said  slowly  and  earnestly,  and  the 
words  were  strange  to  his  own  ears. 

For  he  had  never  said  them  before,  nor  had  she  ever 
heard  them,  and  when  they  are  spoken  in  that  way  they 
are  the  most  wonderful  words  in  the  world,  both  to 
speak  ajid  to  hear. 

The  look  he  had  so  rarely  seen  was  there  now,  and 
x 


306  MARIETTA 

there  was  no  care  to  hide  what  was  in  her  eyes,  for  she 
had  told  him  all,  without  a  word,  as  women  can. 

"  I  have  loved  you  very  long,'*  he  said  again,  and 
with  one  hand  he  pressed  back  her  hair  and  smoothed 
it. 

"  I  know  it,"  she  answered,  gazing  at  him  with  lips 
just  parted.  "But  I  have  loved  you  longer  still." 

"  How  could  I  guess  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It  seems  so 
wonderful,  so  very  strange  I  " 

"I  could  not  say  it  first."  She  smiled.  "And  yet 
I  tried  to  tell  you  without  words.'* 

"  Did  you  ?  " 

She  nodded  as  her  head  lay  in  his  arm,  and  closed 
her  smiling  lips  tightly,  and  nodded  again. 

"You  would  not  understand,"  she  said.  "You 
always  made  it  hard  for  me." 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  only  known  I  " 

She  lay  quietly  on  his  arm  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
neither  spoke.  Only  the  low  roar  of  the  furnace  was 
heard  in  the  hot  stillness.  Marietta  looked  up  steadily 
into  his  face,  with  unwinking  eyes. 

"  How  you  look  at  me  I  "  he  said,  with  a  happy 
smile. 

"  I  have  often  wanted  to  look  at  you  like  this,"  she 
answered  gravely.  "  But  until  you  had  told  me,  how 
could  I?" 

He  bent  down  rather  timidly,  but  drawn  to  her  by 
a  power  he  could  not  resist.  His  first  kiss  touched  her 
forehead  lightly,  with  a  sort  of  boyish  reverence,  while 
a  thrill  ran  through  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  his  body. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  807 

But  she  turned  in  his  arms  and  threw  her  own  sud- 
denly round  his  neck,  and  in  an  instant  their  lips 
met. 

Zorzi  was  in  a  dream,  where  Marietta  alone  was 
real.  All  thought  and  recollection  of  danger  van- 
ished, the  very  room  was  not  the  laboratory  where 
he  had  so  long  lived  and  worked,  and  thought  and 
suffered.  The  walls  were  gold,  the  stone  pavement 
was  a  silken  carpet,  the  shadowy  smoke-stained  beams 
were  the  carved  ceiling  of  a  palace,  he  was  himself 
the  king  and  master  of  the  whole  world,  and  he  held 
all  his  kingdom  in  his  arms. 

"  You  understand  now,"  Marietta  said  at  last,  hold- 
ing his  face  before  her  with  her  hands. 

44  No,"  he  answered  lovingly.  "  I  do  not  understand, 
I  will  not  even  try.  If  I  do,  I  shall  open  my  eyes,  and 
it  will  suddenly  be  daylight,  and  I  shall  put  out  my 
hands  and  find  nothing  I  I  shall  be  alone,  in  my  room, 
just  awake  and  aching  with  a  horrible  longing  for  the 
impossible.  You  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  dream  of 
you,  and  wake  in  the  grey  dawn  !  You  cannot  guess 
what  the  emptiness  is,  the  loneliness  1 " 

"  I  know  it  well,"  said  Marietta.  "  I  have  been  per- 
fectly happy,  talking  to  you  under  the  plane-tree,  your 
hand  in  mine,  and  mine  in  yours,  our  eyes  in  each 
other's  eyes,  our  hearts  one  heart  I  And  then,  all  at 
once,  there  was  Nella,  standing  at  the  foot  of  my  bed 
with  a  big  dish  in  her  hands,  laughing  at  me  because  I 
had  been  sleeping  so  soundly  !  Oh,  sometimes  I  could 
kill  her  for  waking  me  I  " 


808  MARIETTA 

She  drew  his  face  to  hers,  with  a  little  laugh  that 
broke  off  short.  For  a  kiss  is  a  grave  matter. 

"How  much    time  we    have  wasted    in  all  these, 
months  I  "    she    said    presently.      "  Why   wouM  you 
never  understand?" 

"  How  could  I  guess  that  you  could  ever  love  me  ?  " 
Zorzi  asked. 

"I  guessed  that  you  loved  me,"  objected  Marietta. 
u  At  least,"  she  added,  correcting  herself,  "  I  was  quite 
sure  of  it  for  a  little  while.  Then  I  did  not  believe 
it  all.  If  I  had  believed  it  quite,  they  should  never 
have  betrothed  me  to  Jacopo  Contarini  I " 

The  name  recalled  all  realities  to  Zorzi,  though  she 
spoke  it  very  carelessly,  almost  with  scorn.  Zorzi 
sighed  and  looked  up  at  last,  and  stared  at  the  wall 
opposite. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Marietta  quickly.  "Why  do 
you  sigh  ?  " 

"There  is  reason  enough.  Are  you  not  betrothed 
to  him,  as  you  say?" 

Marietta  straightened  herself  suddenly,  and  made 
him  look  at  her.  A  quick  light  was  in  her  eyes,  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying?  Do  you  think 
that  if  I  meant  to  marry  Messer  Jacopo,  I  should  be 
here  now,  that  I  should  let  you  hold  me  in  your 
arms,  that  I  would  kiss  you  ?  Do  you  really  believe 
that?" 

"I  could  not  believe  it,"  Zorzi  answered.  "And 
yet—" 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  809 

w  And  yet  you  almost  do  !  "  she  cried.  *•  What  more 
do  you  need,  to  know  that  I  love  you,  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul  and  will,  and  that  I  mean  to  be  your 
wife,  come  what  may?" 

"  How  is  it  possible  ?  "  asked  Zorzi  almost  disconso- 
lately. "  How  could  you  ever  marry  me  ?  What  am 
I,  after  all,  compared  with  you  ?  I  am  not  even  a 
Venetian  I  I  am  a  stranger,  a  waif,  a  man  with 
neither  name  nor  fortune  !  And  I  am  half  a  cripple, 
lame  for  life  I  How  can  you  marry  me  ?  At  the  first 
word  of  such  a  thing  your  father  will  join  his  son 
against  me,  I  shall  be  thrown  into  prison  on  some  false 
charge  and  shall  never  come  out  again,  unless  it  be  to 
be  hanged  for  some  crime  I  never  committed." 

"  There  is  a  very  simple  way  of  preventing  all  those 
dreadful  things,"  answered  Marietta. 

"I  wish  I  could  find  it." 

"Take  me  with  you,"  she  said  calmly. 

Zorzi  looked  at  her  in  dumb  surprise,  for  she  could 
not  have  said  anything  which  he  had  expected  less. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  she  continued.  "  You  cannot  stay 
here  —  or  rather,  you  shall  not,  for  I  will  not  let  you. 
No,  you  need  not  smile  and  shake  your  head,  for  I 
will  find  some  means  of  making  you  go." 

"  You  will  find  that  hard,  dear  love,  for  that  is  the 
only  thing  I  will  not  do  for  you." 

"Is  it?  We  shall  see.  You  are  very  brave,  and 
you  are  very,  very  obstinate,  but  you  are  not  very 
sensible,  for  you  are  only  a  man,  after  all.  In  the 
first  place,  do  you  imagine  that  even  if  Giovanni  were 


310  MARIETTA 

to  spend  a  whole  week  in  this  room,  he  would  think 
df  looking  for  the  box  amongst  the  broken  glass  ? " 

"No,  I  do  not  think  he  would,"  answered  Zorzi. 
"That  was  sensible  of  me,  at  all  events."  She  laughed. 

"  Oh,  you  are  clever  enough  I  I  never  said  that  you 
were  not  that.  I  only  said  that  you  had  no  sense.  As 
for  instance,  since  you  are  sure  that  my  brother  can- 
not find  the  box,  why  do  you  wish  to  stay  here  ? " 

"  I  promised  your  father  that  I  would.  I  will  keep 
my  promise,  at  all  costs." 

"  In  which  of  two  ways  shall  you  be  of  more  use  to 
my  father  ?  If  you  hide  in  a  safe  place  till  he  comes 
home,  and  if  you  then  come  back  to  him  and  help  him 
as  before  ?  Or  if  you  allow  yourself  to  be  thrown  into 
prison,  and  tried,  and  perhaps  hanged  or  banished,  for 
something  you  never  did  ?  And  if  any  harm  comes  to 
you,  what  do  you  think  would  become  of  me  ?  Do  you 
see  ?  I  told  you  that  you  had  no  common  sense.  Now 
you  will  believe  me.  But  if  all  this  is  not  enough  to 
make  you  go,  I  have  another  plan,  which  you  cannot 
possibly  oppose." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Zorzi. 

"  I  will  go  alone.  I  will  cross  the  bridge,  and  take 
the  skiff,  and  row  myself  over  to  Venice  and  from 
Venice  I  will  get  to  the  mainland." 

44  You  could  not  row  the  skiff,"  objected  Zorzi,  amused 
at  the  idea.  "  You  would  fall  off,  or  upset  her." 

"Then  I  should  drown,"  returned  Marietta  philo- 
sophically. "And  you  would  be  sorry,  whether  you 
thought  it  was  your  fault  or  not.  Is  that  true  ?  " 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  311 

"Yes." 

"  Very  well.  If  you  will  not  promise  me  faithfully 
to  escape  to  the  mainland  to-night,  1  swear  to  you  by 
all  that  you  and  I  believe  in,  and  most  of  all  by  our  love 
for  each  other,  that  I  will  do  what  I  said,  and  run  away 
from  my  father's  house,  to-night.  But  you  will  not  let 
me  go  alone,  will  you  ?  " 

«  No  !  " 

"  There  !  You  see  !  Of  course  you  would  not  let 
me  go  alone,  me,  a  poor  weak  girl,  who  have  never 
taken  a  step  alone  in  my  life,  until  to-night  I  And 
they  say  that  the  world  is  so  wicked  !  What  would 
become  of  me  if  you  let  me  go  away  alone  ?  " 

44  If  I  thought  you  meant  to  do  that !  " 

He  laughed  again,  and  drew  her  to  him,  and  would 
have  kissed  her  ;  but  she  held  him  back  and  looked  at 
him  earnestly. 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  said.  "  That  is  what  I  will  do.  I 
swear  that  I  will.  Yes  —  now  you  may." 

And  she  kissed  him  of  her  own  accord,  but  quickly 
withdrew  herself  from  his  arms  again. 

"You  have  your  choice,"  she  said,  "and  you  must 
choose  quickly,  for  I  have  been  here  too  long  —  it  must 
be  nearly  half  an  hour  since  I  left  my  room,  and  Nella 
is  waiting  for  me,  thinking  that  I  am  with  my  brother 
and  his  wife.  Promise  me  to  do  what  I  ask,  and  I  will 
go  back,  and  when  my  father  comes  home  I  will  tell 
him  the  whole  truth.  That  is  the  wisest  thing,  after 
all.  Or,  I  will  go  with  you,  if  you  will  take  me  as  I 


312  MARIETTA 

"  No,"  he  answered,  with  an  effort.  M I  will  not  take 
you  with  me.*' 

It  cost  him  a  hard  struggle  to  refuse.  There  she 
was,  resting  against  his  arm,  in  the  blush  and  wealth  of 
unspent  love,  asking  to  go  with  him,  who  loved  her 
better  than  his  life.  But  in  a  quick  vision  he  saw  her 
with  him,  she  who  was  delicately  nurtured  and  used 
from  childhood  to  all  that  care  and  money  could  give, 
he  saw  her  with  him,  sharing  his  misery,  his  hunger 
and  his  wandering,  suffering  silently  for  love's  sake, 
but  suffering  much,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  fancied 
sight. 

"  I  should  be  in  your  way,"  she  said.  "  Besides, 
they  would  send  all  over  Italy  to  find  me." 

"It  is  not  that,"  he  answered.     "You  might  starve." 

She  looked  up  anxiously  to  his  face. 

44  And  you  ?  "  she  asked.     "  Have  you  no  money  ?  " 

"  No.  How  should  I  have  money  ?  I  believe  I  have 
one  piece  of  gold  and  a  little  silver.  It  will  be  enough 
to  keep  me  from  starvation  till  I  can  get  work  some- 
where. I  can  live  on  bread  and  water,  as  I  have  many 
a  time." 

"  If  I  had  only  thought !  "  exclaimed  Marietta.  "  I 
have  so  much  !  My  father  left  me  a  little  purse  of 
gold  that  I  shall  never  need." 

"  I  would  not  take  your  father's  money,"  answered 
Zorzi.  "  But  have  no  fear.  If  I  go  at  all,  I  shall  do 
well  enough.  Besides,  there  is  a  man  in  Venice  — " 
He  stopped  short,  not  wishing  to  speak  of  Zuan 
Venier. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  313 

"  You  must  not  make  any  condition,"  she  answered, 
not  heeding  the  unfinished  sentence.  "You  must  go 
at  once." 

She  rose  as  she  spoke. 

"  Every  minute  I  stay  here  makes  it  more  dangerous 
for  me  to  go  back,"  she  said.  "  I  know  that  you  will 
keep  your  promise.  We  must  say  good-bye." 

He  had  risen,  too,  and  stood  facing  her,  his  crutch 
under  his  arm.  In  all  her  anxiety  for  his  safety  she 
had  half  forgotten  that  his  wound  was  barely  healed, 
and  that  he  still  walked  with  great  difficulty.  And 
now,  at  the  thought  of  leaving  him  she  forgot  every- 
thing else.  They  had  been  so  cruelly  short,  those  few 
minutes  of  perfect  happiness  between  the  long  mis- 
understanding that  had  kept  them  apart  and  the  part- 
ing again  that  was  to  separate  them,  perhaps  for 
months*  As  they  looked  at  each  other,  they  both 
grew  pale,  and  in  an  instant  Zorzi's  young  face  looked 
haggard  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  grow  hollow,  while 
Marietta's  filled  with  tears. 

"  Good-bye  1 "  she  cried  in  a  broken  voice.  "  God 
keep  you,  my  dear  love  1 " 

Then  her  face  was  buried  in  the  hollow  of  his 
shoulder  and  her  tears  flowed  fast  and  burning  hot. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

IT  was  over  at  last,  and  Zorzi  stood  alone  by  the 
table,  for  Marietta  would  not  let  him  go  with  her  to  the 
door.  She  could  not  trust  herself  before  Pasquale,  even 
in  the  gloom.  He  stood  by  the  table,  leaning  on  it 
heavily  with  one  hand,  and  trying  to  realise  all  that 
had  come  into  his  lonely  life  within  the  half  hour,  and 
all  that  might  happen  to  him  before  morning.  The 
glorious  and  triumphant  certainty  which  first  love  brings 
to  every  man  when  it  is  first  returned,  still  swelled  his 
heart  and  filled  the  air  he  breathed,  so  that  while 
breathing  deep,  he  could  not  breathe  enough.  In  such 
a  mood  all  dangers  dwindled,  all  obstacles  sank  out  of 
sight  as  shadows  sink  at  dawn.  And  yet  the  parting 
had  hurt  him,  as  if  his  body  had  been  wrenched  in  the 
middle  by  some  resistless  force. 

Women  feel  parting  differently.  Shall  we  men  ever 
understand  them  ?  To  a  man,  first  love  is  a  victory,  to 
a  girl  it  is  a  sweet  wonder,  and  a  joy,  and  a  tender  long- 
ing, all  in  one.  And  when  partings  come,  as  come  they 
must  in  life  until  death  brings  the  last,  it  is  always  the 
man  who  leaves,  and  the  woman  who  is  left,  even  though 
in  plain  fact  it  be  the  man  that  stays  behind ;  and  we 
men  feel  a  little  contemptuous  pity  for  one  who  seems 

314 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF    VENICE  315 

to  cry  out  after  the  woman  lie  loves,  asking  why  she 
has  left  him,  and  beseeching  her  to  come  back  to  him, 
but  our  compassion  for  the  woman  in  like  case  is  always 
sincere.  In  such  small  things  there  are  the  great  mys- 
teries of  that  prime  difference,  which  neither  man  nor 
woman  caji  ever  fully  understand,  but  which,  if  not 
understood  a  little,  is  the  cause  of  much  miserable  mis- 
understanding in  life. 

Zorzi  had  to  face  the  future  at  once,  for  it  was  upon 
him,  and  the  old  life  was  over,  perhaps  never  to  come 
again.  He  stood  still,  where  he  was,  for  any  useless 
movement  was  an  effort,  and  he  tried  to  collect  his 
thoughts  and  determine  just  what  he  should  do,  and 
how  it  was  to  be  done.  His  eye  fell  on  the  piece  of 
gold  Giovanni  had  paid  for  the  beaker.  In  the  morn- 
ing, if  he  drew  the  iron  tray  further  down  the  annealing 
oven,  the  glass  would  be  ready  to  be  taken  out,  and 
Giovanni  could  take  it  if  he  pleased,  for  he  knew  whose 
it  was.  But  starvation  itself  could  not  have  induced 
Zorzi  to  take  the  money  now.  He  turned  from  it  with 
contempt.  All  he  needed  was  enough  to  buy  bread  for 
a  week,  and  mere  bread  cost  little.  That  little  he  had, 
and  it  must  suffice.  Besides  that  he  would  make  a 
bundle  small  enough  to  be  easily  carried.  His  chief 
difficulty  would  be  in  rowing  the  skiff.  To  use  the 
single  oar  at  all  it  was  almost  indispensable  to  stand, 
and  to  stand  chiefly  on  the  right  foot,  since  the  single 
rowlock,  as  in  every  Venetian  boat,  was  on  the  star- 
board side  and  could  not  be  shifted  to  port.  He  fancied 
that  in  some  way  he  could  manage  to  sit  on  the  thwart, 


316  MARIETTA 

and  use  the  oar  as  a  paddle.  In  any  case  he  must  get 
away,  since  fiight  was  the  wisest  course,  and  since  he 
had  promised  Marietta  that  he  would  go.  His  reflec- 
tions had  occupied  scarce  half  a  minute. 

He  began  to  walk  towards  the  small  room  where  he 
slept,  and  where  he  kept  his  few  possessions.  He  had 
taken  two  steps  from  the  table,  when  he  stopped  short, 
turned  round  and  listened. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  light  footsteps,  running  along 
the  path  and  coming  nearer.  In  another  moment 
Marietta  was  at  the  window,  her  face  deadly  white, 
her  eyes  wide  with  fear. 

"  They  are  there  !  "  she  cried  wildly.  "  They  have 
come  to-night !  Hide  yourself  quickly  1  Pasquale  will 
keep  them  out  as  long  as  he  can." 

She  had  found  Pasquale  stoutly  refusing  to  open  the 
door.  Outside  stood  a  lieutenant  of  the  archers  with 
half-a-dozen  men,  demanding  admittance  in  the  name 
of  the  Governor.  Pasquale  answered  that  they  might 
get  in  by  force  if  they  could,  but  that  he  had  no  orders 
to  open  the  door  to  them.  The  lieutenant  was  in  doubt 
whether  his  warrant  authorised  him  to  break  in  or  not. 

Zorzi  knew  that  Marietta  was  in  even  more  danger 
than  he.  The  situation  was  desperate  and  the  time 
short.  She  was  still  at  the  window,  looking  in. 

"  You  know  your  way  to  the  main  furnace  rooms,' 
Zorzi  said  quickly,  but  with  great  coolness.  "  Run  in 
there,  and  stand  still  in  the  dark  till  everything  is 
quiet.  Then  slip  out  and  get  home  as  quickly  as 
possible." 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  317 

"But  you?  What  will  become  of  you?"  asked 
Marietta  in  an  agony  of  anxiety. 

"  If  they  do  not  take  me  at  once,  they  will  search  all 
the  buildings  and  will  find  you,"  answered  Zorzi.  u  I 
will  go  and  meet  them,  while  you  are  hiding." 

He  opened  the  door  beside  the  window  and  put  his 
crutch  forward  upon  the  path.  At  the  same  moment 
the  sound  of  a  tremendous  blow  echoed  down  the  dark 
corridor.  The  moon  was  low  but  had  not  set  and  there 
was  still  light  in  the  garden. 

"  Quickly  !  "  Zorzi  exclaimed.  "  They  are  breaking 
down  the  door." 

But  Marietta  clung  to  him  almost  savagely,  when  he 
tried  to  push  her  in  the  direction  of  the  main  furnace 
rooms  on  the  other  side  of  the  garden. 

"  I  will  not  leave  you,"  she  cried.  "  They  shall  take 
me  with  you,  wherever  you  are  going  !  " 

She  grasped  his  hand  with  both  her  hands,  and  then, 
as  he  moved,  she  slipped  her  arm  round  him.  At  the 
street  door  the  pounding  blows  succeeded  each  other 
in  quick  succession,  but  apparently  without  effect. 

Zorzi  saw  that  he  must  make  her  understand  her 
extreme  danger.  He  took  hold  of  her  wrist  with  a 
quiet  strength  that  recalled  her  to  herself,  and  there 
was  a  tone  of  command  in  his  voice  when  he  spoke. 

"  Go  at  once,"  he  said.  "  It  will  be  worse  for  both 
of  us  if  you  are  found  here.  They  will  hang  me  for 
stealing  the  master's  daughter  as  well  as  his  secrets. 
Go,  dear  love,  go  !  Good-bye  1  " 

He  kissed  her  once,  and  then  gently  pushed  her  from 


318  MARIETTA 

him.  She  understood  that  she  must  obey,  and  that  if 
he  spoke  of  his  own  danger  it  was  for  the  sake  of  her 
good  name.  With  a  gesture  of  despair  she  turned  and 
left  him,  crossed  the  patch  of  light  without  looking 
back,  and  disappeared  into  the  shadows  beyond.  She 
was  safe  now,  for  he  would  go  and  meet  the  archers, 
opening  the  door  to  give  himself  up.  Using  his  crutch 
he  swung  himself  along  into  the  dark  corridor  without 
another  moment's  hesitation. 

But  matters  did  not  turn  out  as  he  expected.  When 
the  force  came  down  the  footway  from  the  dilution 
of  San  Piero,  Giovanni  was  still  talking  to  his  wife 
about  household  economies  and  censuring  what  he 
called  the  reckless  extravagance  of  his  father's  house- 
keeping. As  he  talked,  he  heard  the  even  tread  of  a 
number  of  marching  men.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
went  to  the  window,  for  he  guessed  who  was  coming, 
though  he  could  not  imagine  why  the  Governor  had 
not  waited  till  the  next  day,  as  had  been  agreed. 
He  could  not  know  that  on  leaving  him  Jacopo  Coii- 
tarini  had  seen  his  father  and  had  told  him  of  Zorzi's 
misdeeds  ;  and  that  the  Governor  had  supped  with  old 
Contarini,  who  was  an  uncompromising  champion  of 
the  law,  besides  being  one  of  the  Ten  and  therefore 
the  Governor's  superior  in  office  ;  and  that  Contarini 
had  advised  that  Zorzi  should  be  taken  on  that  same 
night,  as  he  might  be  warned  of  his  danger  and  find 
means  to  escape.  Moreover,  Contarini  offered  a  trusty 
and  swift  oarsman  to  take  the  order  to  Murano,  and 
the  Governor  wrote  it  on  the  supper  table,  between 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  319 

two  draughts  of  Greek  wine,  which  he  drank  from  a 
goblet  made  by  Angelo  Beroviero  himself  in  the  days 
when  he  still  worked  at  the  art. 

In  half  an  hour  the  warrant  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
officer,  who  immediately  called  out  half-a-dozen  of  his 
men  and  marched  them  down  to  the  glass-house. 

Giovanni  saw  them  stop  and  knock  at  the  door,  and 
he  heard  Pasquale's  gruff  inquiry. 

"  In  the  Governor's  name,  open  at  once  !  "  said  the 
officer. 

"  Any  one  can  say  that,"  answered  the  porter.  "  In 
the  devil's  name  go  home  and  go  to  bed  !  Is  this  carni- 
val time,  to  go  masquerading  by  the  light  of  the  moon 
and  waking  up  honest  people  ?  " 

"  Silence  !  "  roared  the  lieutenant.  "  Open  the  door, 
or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"  It  will  be  the  worse  for  you,  if  the  Signer  Giovanni 
hears  this  disturbance,"  answered  Pasquale,  who  could 
see  Giovanni  at  the  window  opposite  in  the  moonlight. 
"  Either  get  orders  from  him,  or  go  home  and  leave  me 
in  holy  peace,  you  band  of  braying  jackasses,  you  mob 
of  blobber-lipped  Barbary  apes,  you  pack  of  doltish, 
droiling,  doddered  joltheads  !  Be  off  !  " 

This  eloquence,  combined  with  Pasquale's  assured 
manner,  caused  the  lieutenant  to  hesitate  before  break- 
ing down  the  door,  an  operation  for  which  he  had 
not  been  prepared,  and  for  which  he  had  brought  no 
engines  of  battery. 

"  Can  you  get  in  ?  "  he  inquired  of  his  men,  without 
deigning  to  answer  the  porter's  invectives.  "  If  not, 


320  MARIETTA 

let  one  of  you  go  for  a  sledge  hammer.  Try  it  with 
the  butts  of  your  halberds  against  the  lock,  one,  two, 
three  and  all  at  once." 

u  Oh,  break  down  the  door !  "  cried  Pasquale  deri- 
sively. "  It  is  of  oak  and  iron,  and  it  cost  good  money, 
and  you  shall  pay  for  it,  you  lubberly  curs." 

But  the  men  pounded  away  with  a  good  will. 

"  Open  the  door !  "  cried  Giovanni  from  the  opposite 
window,  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 

The  sight  of  the  destruction  of  property  for  which 
he  might  have  to  account  to  his  father  was  very  painful 
to  him.  But  he  could  not  make  himself  heard  in  the 
terrific  din,  or  else  Pasquale  suspected  the  truth  and 
pretended  that  he  could  not  hear.  The  porter  had 
seen  Marietta  a  moment  in  the  gloom,  and  he  knew 
that  she  had  gone  back  to  warn  Zorzi.  He  hoped  to 
give  them  both  time  to  hide  themselves,  and  he  now 
retired  from  the  grating  and  began  to  strengthen  the 
door,  first  by  putting  two  more  heavy  oak  bars  in  their 
places  across  it  near  the  top  and  bottom,  and  further 
by  bringing  the  scanty  furniture  from  his  lodge  and 
piling  it  up  against  the  panels. 

Meanwhile  the  pounding  continued  at  a  great  rate, 
and  Giovanni  thought  it  better  to  go  down  and  inter- 
fere in  person,  since  he  could  not  make  himself  heard. 
The  servants  were  all  roused  by  this  time,  and  many 
heads  were  looking  out  of  upper  windows,  not  only 
from  Beroviero's  house,  but  from  the  houses  higher 
up,  beyond  the  wooden  bridge.  Two  men  who  were 
walking  up  the  footway  from  the  opposite  direction 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  321 

stopped  at  a  little  distance  and  looked  on,  their  hoods 
drawn  over  their  eyes. 

Giovanni  came  out  hurriedly  and  crossed  the  bridge. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  the  lieutenant's  shoulder  anxiously 
and  spoke  close  to  his  ear,  for  the  pounding  was  deafen- 
ing. The  six  men  had  strapped  their  halberds  firmly 
together  in  a  solid  bundle  with  their  belts,  and  stand- 
ing three  on  each  side  they  swung  the  whole  mass  of 
wood  and  iron  like  a  battering  ram,  in  regular  time. 

"  Stop  them,  sir  !  Stop  them,  pray !  "  cried  Giovanni, 
"  I  will  have  the  door  opened  for  you." 

Suddenly  there  was  silence  as  the  officer  caught  one 
of  his  men  by  the  arm  and  bade  them  all  wait. 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  am  Giovanni  Beroviero,"  answered  Giovanni,  sure 
that  his  name  would  inspire  respect. 

The  officer  took  off  his  cap  politely  and  then  replaced 
it.  The  two  men  who  were  looking  on  nudged  each 
other. 

"  I  have  a  warrant  to  arrest  a  certain  Zorzi,"  began 
the  lieutenant. 

"  I  know !  It  is  quite  right,  and  he  is  within," 
answered  Giovanni.  "  Pasquale  !  "  he  called,  standing 
on  tiptoe  under  the  grating.  "  Pasquale !  Open  the 
door  at  once  for  these  gentlemen." 

"  Gentlemen !  "  echoed  one  of  the  men  softly,  with  a 
low  laugh  and  digging  his  elbow  into  his  companion's 
side. 

No  one  else  spoke  for  a  moment.  Then  Pasquale 
looked  through  the  grating. 


322  MARIETTA 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  lie  asked. 

"  I  said  open  the  door  at  once  !  "  answered  Giovanni. 
"  Can  you  not  recognise  the  officers  of  the  law  when 
you  see  them  ?  " 

"  No,"  grunted  Pasquale,  "  I  have  never  seen  much 
of  them.  Did  you  say  I  was  to  open  the  door  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  Giovanni  angrily,  for  he  wished  to 
show  his  zeal  before  the  officer.  "  Blockhead  ! "  he 
added  with  emphasis,  as  Pasquale  disappeared  again 
and  was  presumably  out  of  hearing. 

They  all  heard  him  dragging  the  furniture  away 
again,  the  box-bed  and  the  table  and  the  old  chair. 

Zorzi  came  up  as  Pasquale  was  clearing  the  stuff 
away. 

"  They  want  you,"  said  the  old  sailor,  seeing  him 
and  hearing  him  at  the  same  time.  "  What  have  you 
been  doing  now  ?  Where  is  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  In  the  main  furnace  room,"  whispered  Zorzi.  "  Do 
not  let  them  go  there  whatever  they  do." 

Pasquale  gave  vent  to  his  feelings  in  a  low  voice,  as 
he  dragged  the  last  things  back  and  began  to  unbar 
the  door.  Zorzi  leaned  against  the  wall,  for  his  lame- 
ness prevented  him  from  helping.  At  last  the  door 
was  opened,  and  he  saw  the  figures  of  the  men  outside 
against  the  light.  He  went  forward  as  quickly  as  he 
could,  pushing  past  Pasquale  to  get  out.  He  stood  on 
the  threshold,  leaning  on  his  crutch. 

"  I  am  Zorzi,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Zorzi  the  Dalmatian,  called  the  Ballarin  ?  "  asked 
the  lieutenant. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  323 

•'  Yes,  yes  !  "  cried  Giovanni,  anxious  to  hasten 
matters.  "They  call  him  the  dancer  because  he  is 
lame.  This  is  that  foreign  liar,  that  thief,  that  assas- 
sin !  Take  him  quickly  !  " 

The  archers,  who  in  the  changes  of  time  had  become 
halberdiers,  had  dropped  the  bundle  of  spears  they  had 
made  for  a  battering-ram.  Two  of  them  took  Zorzi  by 
the  arms  roughly,  and  prepared  to  drag  him  along 
with  them.  He  made  no  resistance,  but  objected 
quietly. 

"  I  can  walk  better,  if  you  do  not  hold  me,"  he  said. 
"  I  cannot  run  away,  as  you  see." 

"  Let  him  walk  between  you,"  ordered  the  officer. 
"  Good  night,  sir,"  he  said  to  Giovanni. 

Two  of  the  men  lifted  the  bundle  of  halberds  and 
began  to  carry  it  between  them,  trying  to  undo  the 
straps  as  they  walked,  for  they  could  not  stay  behind. 
Giovanni  saluted  the  officer  and  stood  aside  for  the 
party  to  pass.  The  two  men  who  had  looked  on  had 
separated,  and  one  had  already  gone  forward  and  dis- 
appeared beyond  the  bridge.  The  other  lingered,  ap- 
parently still  interested  in  the  proceedings.  Pasquale, 
dumb  with  rage  at  last,  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  said  Giovanni,  as  soon  as  the  archers 
had  gone  on  a  few  steps,  surrounding  Zorzi, 

With  a  growl,  Pasquale  came  out  and  stood  on  the 
pavement  a  moment,  and  Giovanni  went  in.  Instantly, 
the  man  who  had  lingered  made  a  step  towards  the 
porter,  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  and  then  made 
off  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the  direction  taken  by  the 


S24  MARIETTA 

archers.  Pasquale  looked  after  him  in  surprise,  only 
half  understanding  the  meaning  of  what  he  had  said. 
Then  he  went  in,  but  left  the  door  ajar.  The  people 
who  had  been  looking  out  of  the  windows  of  Beroviero's 
house  had  disappeared,  when  they  had  seen  that  Gio- 
vanni was  on  the  footway.  All  was  silent  now  ;  only, 
far  off,  the  tramp  of  the  archers  could  still  be  heard. 

They  could  not  go  very  fast,  with  Zorzi  in  their 
midst,  but  the  two  men  who  were  busy  unfastening  the 
bundle  of  halberds  lagged  in  the  rear,  talking  in  a  low 
voice.  They  did  not  notice  quick  footsteps  behind 
them,  but  they  heard  a  low  whistle,  answered  instantly 
by  another,  just  as  the  main  party  was  nearing  the  cor- 
ner by  the  church  of  San  Piero.  That  was  the  last  the 
two  loiterers  remembered,  for  at  the  next  instant  they 
lay  in  a  heap  upon  the  halberds,  which  had  fallen  upon 
the  pavement  with  a  tremendous  clatter.  A  couple  of 
well-delivered  blows  with  a  stout  stick  had  thoroughly 
stunned  them  almost  at  the  same  instant.  It  would  be 
some  time  before  they  recovered  their  senses. 

While  the  man  who  had  whispered  to  Pasquale  was 
doing  effectual  work  in  the  rear,  his  companion  was 
boldly  attacking  the  main  party  in  front.  As  the  lieu- 
tenant stopped  short  and  turned  his  head  when  the 
halberds  dropped,  a  blow  under  the  jaw  from  a  fist  like 
a  sledge  hammer  almost  lifted  him  off  his  feet  and  sent 
him  reeling  till  he  fell  senseless,  half-a-dozen  paces 
away.  Before  the  two  archers  who  were  guarding 
Zorzi  could  defend  themselves,  unarmed  as  they  were, 
another  blow  had  felled  one  of  them.  The  second. 


A  MAID  OP   VENICE  325 

springing  forward,  was  caught  up  like  a  child  by  his 
terrible  assailant  and  whirled  through  the  air,  to  fall 
with  a  noisy  splash  into  the  shallow  waters  of  the  canal. 
The  other  companion  attacked  the  remaining  two  from 
behind  with  his  club  and  knocked  one  of  them  down. 
The  last  sprang  to  one  side  and  ran  on  a  few  steps  as 
fast  as  he  could.  But  swifter  feet  followed  him,  and  in 
an  instant  iron  fingers  were  clutching  his  throat  and 
squeezing  his  breath  out.  He  struggled  a  moment,  and 
then  sank  down.  His  captor  deliberately  knocked  him 
on  the  head  with  his  fist,  and  he  rolled  over  like  a  stone. 

Utterly  bewildered,  Zorzi  stood  still,  where  he  had 
stopped.  Never  in  his  life  had  he  dreamed  that  two 
men  could  dispose  of  seven,  in  something  like  half  a 
minute,  with  nothing  but  a  stick  for  a  weapon  between 
them.  But  he  had  seen  it  with  his  eyes,  and  he  was 
not  surprised  when  he  felt  himself  lifted  from  his  feet, 
with  his  crutch  beside  him,  and  carried  along  the  foot- 
way at  a  sharp  run,  in  the  direction  of  the  glass-house. 
His  reason  told  him  that  he  had  been  rescued  and  was 
being  quickly  conveyed  to  a  place  of  safety,  but  he 
could  not  help  distrusting  the  means  that  accomplished 
the  end,  for  he  had  unconsciously  watched  the  two  men 
in  what  could  hardly  be  called  a  fight,  though  he  could 
not  see  their  faces,  and  a  more  murderous  pair  of  ruffians 
he  had  never  seen.  Men  not  well  used  to  such  deeds 
could  not  have  done  them  at  all,  thought  Zorzi,  as  he 
was  borne  along,  his  breath  almost  shaken  out  of  him  by 
the  strong  man's  movements. 

All  was  quiet,  as  they  passed  the  glass-house,  and  no 


326  MARIETTA 

one  was  looking  out,  for  Giovanni's  wife  feared  him 
far  too  much  to  seem  to  be  spying  upon  his  doings*, 
and  the  servants  were  discreet.  Only  Nella,  hiding 
behind  the  flowers  in  Marietta's  window,  and  suppos- 
ing that  Marietta  was  with  her  sister-in-law,  was 
watching  the  door  of  the  glass-house  to  see  when  Gio- 
vanni would  come  out.  She  now  heard  the  steps  of 
the  two  men,  running  down  the  footway.  The  rescue 
had  taken  place  too  far  away  for  her  to  hear  anything 
but  a  splash  in  the  canal.  She  saw  that  one  of  the 
men  was  carrying  what  seemed  to  be  the  body  of  a 
man.  She  instinctively  crossed  herself,  as  they  ran  on 
towards  the  end  of  the  canal,  and  when  she  could  see 
them  no  longer  in  the  shadow,  she  drew  back  into  the 
room,  momentarily  forgetting  Giovanni,  and  already 
running  over  in  her  head  the  wonderful  conversation 
she  was  going  to  have  with  her  mistress  as  soon  as  the 
young  girl  came  back  to  her  room. 

Pasquale,  meanwhile,  withdrew  his  feet  from  the  old 
leathern  slippers  he  wore,  and  noiselessly  stole  down 
the  corridor  and  along  the  garden  path,  to  find  out 
what  Giovanni  was  doing.  When  he  came  to  the 
laboratory,  he  saw  that  the  window  was  now  shut,  as 
well  as  the  door,  and  that  Giovanni  had  set  the  lamp 
on  the  floor  behind  the  further  end  of  the  annealing 
oven.  Its  bright  light  shot  upwards  to  the  dark  ceil- 
ing, leaving  the  front  of  the  laboratory  almost  in  the 
dark.  Pasquale  listened  and  he  heard  the  sharp  tap- 
ping of  a  hammer  on  stone.  He  understood  at  once 
that  Giovanni  had  shut  himself  in  to  search  for  some- 
thing, and  would  therefore  be  busy  some  time. 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  327 

Without  noise  he  crossed  the  garden  to  the  entrance 
of  the  main  furnace  room  and  went  into  the  passage. 

"  Come  out  quickly  !  "  he  whispered,  as  his  seaman's 
eyes  made  out  Marietta's  figure  in  a  gloom  that  would 
have  been  total  darkness  to  a  landsman,  and  he  took 
hold  of  the  girl's  arm  to  lead  her  away. 

"  Your  brother  is  in  the  laboratory,  and  will  not 
i  come  out,"  he  whispered.  "  By  this  time  Zorzi  may  be 
»safe." 

"  Safe  !  "     She  spoke  the  word  aloud,  in  her  relief. 
"  Hush,  for  heaven's  sake.     The  door  is  open.     You 
can  get  home  now  without  being  seen.    Make  no  noise." 
She  followed  him  quickly.     They  had  to  cross  the 
patch  of  dim  light  in  the  garden,  and  she  glanced  at 
•the  closed  window  of  the  laboratory.     It  had  all  hap- 
pened as  Zorzi  had  foreseen,  and  Giovanni  was  already 
searching  for   the   manuscript.      The   only  thing   she 
could  not  understand  was  that  Zorzi  should  have  es- 
caped the  archers.     Even  as   she   crossed  the  garden, 
'  the  two  men  were  passing  the  door,  bearing  Zorzi  he 
(knew  not  where,  but   away  from  the  nearest  danger. 
A  moment   later   she  was   on   the   footway,  hurrying 
1  to  wards  the  bridge.     Pasquale  stood  watching  her,  to 
be  sure  that  she  was  safe,  and  he  glanced  up  at  the 
windows,   too,  fearing  lest  some  one   might   still    be 
looking  out. 

But  chance  had  saved  Marietta  this  time.  She  care- 
fully barred  the  side  door  after  she  had  gone  in,  and 
groped  her  way  up  the  dark  stairs.  On  the  landing 
there  was  light  from  below,  and  she  paused  for  breath, 


328  MARIETTA 

her  bosom   heaving  as  she   leaned   a   moment  on  th 
balustrade.       She    passed    one   hand   over   her  brows, 
as  if  to  bring   herself   back   to  present  consciousness 
and  then  went  quickly  on. 

"  Safe,"  she  repeated  under  her  breath  as  she  went 
"  safe,  safe,  safe  !  " 

It  was  to  give  herself  courage,  for  she  could  hardly 
believe  it,  though  she  knew  that  Pasquale  would  not 
deceive  her  and  must  have  some  strong  good  reason 
for  what  he  said.  There  had  not  been  time  to  ques- 
tion him. 

All  he  knew  himself  was  that  a  man  whose  face  he 
could  not  see  had  whispered  to  him  that  Zorzi  was  1 
no  danger.      But   he   had   recognised   the  other  ma 
who   had  gone   up  the  footway  first,  in  spite  of   his 
short  cloak  and  hood,  and  he   felt  well  assured  that 
Charalambos  Aristarchi  could  throw  the  officer  and  his 
six   men   into   the   canal   without    anybody's    help,  if 
he  chose,  though  why  the  Greek  ruffian  was  suddenly 
inspired  to  interfere  on  Zorzi's  behalf  was  a  mystery 
past  his  comprehension. 

Marietta  entered  her  room,  and  Nella,  who  had  been 
revelling  in  the  coming  conversation,  was  suddenly 
very  busy,  stirring  the  drink  of  lime  flowers  which 
Marietta  had  ordered.  She  was  so  sure  that  her  mis- 
tress had  been  all  the  time  in  the  house,  and  so 
anxious  not  to  have  it  thought  that  she  could  possibly 
have  been  idle,  even  for  a  moment,  that  she  looked 
intently  into  the  cup  and  stirred  the  contents  in  a 
most  conscientious  manner.  Marietta  turned  from  her 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  329 

almost  immediately  and  began  to  undo  the  braids  of 
hair,  that  Nella  might  comb  it  out  and  plait  it  again 
for  the  night.  Nella  immediately  began  to  talk,  and 
to  tell  all  that  she  had  seen  from  the  window,  with 
many  other  things  which  she  had  not  seen. 

"But  of  course  you  were  looking  out,  too,"  she  said 
presently.  "  They  were  all  at  the  windows  for  some 
time." 

"No,"  Marietta  answered.  "I  was  not  looking 
out." 

44  Well,  it  was  to-night,  and  not  to-morrow,  you  see. 
Do  you  think  the  Governor  is  stupid  ?  If  he  had 
waited  till  to-morrow,  we  should  have  told  Zorzi. 
Poor  Zorzi !  I  saw  them  taking  him  away,  loaded 
with  chains." 

44  In  chains  !  "  cried  Marietta,  starting  painfully. 

44 1  could  not  see  the  chains,"  continued  Nella 
apologetically,  44but  I  am  sure  they  were  there.  It 
was  too  dark  to  see.  Poor  Zorzi  !  Poor  Zorzi !  By 
this  time  he  is  in  the  prison  under  the  Governor's 
house,  and  he  wishes  that  he  had  never  been  born.  A 
little  straw,  a  little  water !  That  is  all  he  has." 

Marietta  moved  in  her  chair,  as  if  something  hurt 
her,  but  she  knew  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  stop  the 
woman's  talk.  Besides,  Nella  was  evidently  sorry  for 
Zorzi,  though  she  thought  his  arrest  very  interesting. 
She  went  on  for  a  long  time,  combing  more  and  more 
slowly,  after  the  manner  of  talkative  maids,  when 
they  fear  that  their  work  may  be  finished  before  their 
story.  But  for  Pasquale's  reassuring  words,  Marietta 


330  MARIETTA 

felt  that  she  must  have  gone  mad.  Zorzi  was  safe, 
somewhere,  and  he  was  not  in  the  Governor's  prison, 
on  the  straw.  She  told  herself  so  again  and  again  as 
Nella  went  on. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  did  not  tell  you,"  said  the 
latter,  with  a  sudden  increase  of  vigour  at  the  thought. 

"I  think  you  have  told  me  enough,  Nella,"  said 
Marietta  wearily.  "  I  am  very  tired." 

"  You  cannot  go  to  bed  till  I  have  plaited  your  hair," 
answered  Nella  mercilessly,  but  at  the  same  time  lay- 
ing down  the  comb.  "  Just  before  you  came  in,  I  was 
looking  out  of  the  window.  It  was  just  an  accident, 
for  I  was  very  busy  with  your  things,  of  course.  Well, 
as  I  was  saying,  in  passing  I  happened  to  glance  out 
of  the  window,  and  I  saw  —  guess  what  I  saw,  my 
pretty  lady  !  " 

Marietta  trembled,  thinking  that  Nella  had  seen  her, 
and  perhaps  recognised  her,  and  was  about  to  bring  her 
garrulous  tale  to  a  dramatic  climax  by  telling  her  so. 

"Perhaps  you  saw  a  woman,"  she  suggested  des- 
perately. 

"  A  woman  indeed  !  "  cried  Nella.  "  That  must  be 
a  nice  woman  who  would  be  seen  in  the  street  at  such 
a  time  of  night,  and  the  Governor's  archers  there,  too  ! 
Woman  ?  I  would  not  look  at  such  a  woman,  I  tell 
you  !  No.  What  I  saw  was  this,  since  you  cannot 
guess.  There  came  two  big  men,  running  fast,  and  they 
were  carrying  a  dead  body  between  them  !  Eh  I  They 
were  at  no  good,  I  tell  you.  One  could  see  that. " 

Marietta  could  bear  no  more,  now.      She  bent  her 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  331 

head  and  bit  her  finger  to  keep  herself  from  crying 
out. 

"  If  you  will  not  be  still,  how  in  the  world  am  I  to 
plait  your  hair  ?  "  asked  Nella  querulously. 

"  Do  it  quickly,  please,"  Marietta  succeeded  in  say- 
ing. "  I  am  so  very  tired  to-night." 

Her  head  bent  still  further  forward. 

"Indeed,"  said  Nella,  much  annoyed  that  her  tale 
should  not  have  been  received  with  more  interest,  "  you 
seem  to  be  half  asleep  already.'* 

But  Nella  was  much  too  truly  attached  to  her  mis- 
tress not  to  feel  some  anxiety  when  she  saw  her  white 
face  and  noticed  how  uncertainly  she  walked.  Nella 
had  her  in  bed  at  last,  however,  and  gave  her  more  of 
the  soothing  drink,  smoothed  the  cool  pillow  under  her 
head,  looked  round  the  room  to  see  that  all  was  in 
order  before  going  away,  then  took  the  lamp  and  at 
last  went  out. 

"  Good  night,  my  pretty  lady,"  said  Nella  cheerfully 
from  the  door,  "  good  rest  and  pleasant  dreams  !  " 

She  was  gone  at  last,  and  she  would  not  come  back 
before  morning. 

Marietta  sat  up  in  bed  in  the  dark  and  pressed  her 
hands  to  her  temples  in  utter  despair. 

"  I  shall  go  mad  !  I  shall  go  mad  !  "  she  whispered 
to  herself. 

She  remembered  that  she  had  left  her  light  silk 
mantle  in  the  laboratory,  on  the  great  chair. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ARISTARCHI'S  interference  to  rescue  Zorzi  had  not 
been  disinterested,  and  so  far  as  justice  was  concerned 
he  was  quite  ready  to  believe  that  the  Dalmatian  had 
done  all  the  things  of  which  he  was  accused.  The  fact 
was  not  of  the  slightest  importance  in  the  situation.  It 
was  much  more  to  the  point  that  in  the  complicated 
and  dangerous  plan  which  the  Greek  captain  and 
Arisa  were  carrying  out,  Zorzi  could  be  of  use  to  them, 
without  his  own  knowledge.  As  has  been  told,  the 
two  had  decided  that  he  was  in  love  with  Marietta,  and 
she  with  him.  The  rest  followed  naturally. 

After  meeting  his  father  and  telling  him  Giovanni's 
story,  Jacopo  Contarini  had  gone  to  the  house  of  the 
Agnus  Dei  for  an  hour,  and  during  that  time  he  hac 
told  Arisa  iverything,  according  to  his  wont.  No 
sooner  was  he  gone  than  Arisa  made  the  accustomec 
signal  and  Aristarchi  appeared  at  her  window,  for  it 
was  then  already  night.  He  judged  rightly  that  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  having  stopped  at  his  house 
to  take  his  trusted  man,  the  two  rowed  themselves  over 
to  Murano,  and  were  watching  the  glass-house  from 
a  distance,  fully  half  an  hour  before  the  archers 
appeared. 

332 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OP    VENICE  333 

The  officer  and  his  men  came  to  their  senses,  one  by 
one,  bruised  and  terrified.  The  man  who  had  been 
thrown  into  the  shallow  canal  got  upon  his  feet,  stand- 
ing up  to  his  waist  in  the  water,  sputtering  and  cough- 
ing from  the  ducking.  Before  he  tried  to  gain  the 
shore,  he  crossed  himself  three  times  and  repeated  all 
the  prayers  he  could  remember,  in  a  great  hurry,  for 
he  was  of  opinion  that  Satan  must  still  be  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. It  was  not  possible  that  any  earthly  being 
should  have  picked  him  up  like  a  puppy  and  flung  him 
fully  ten  feet  from  the  spot  where  he  had  been  stand- 
ing. He  struggled  to  the  bank,  his  feet  sinking  at 
each  step  in  the  slimy  bottom ;  and  after  that  he  was 
forced  to  wade  some  thirty  yards  to  the  stairs  in  front 
of  San  Piero  before  he  could  get  out  of  the  water, 
a  miserable  object,  drenched  from  head  to  foot  and 
coated  with  black  mud  from  his  knees  down.  Yet 
he  was  in  a  better  case  than  his  companions. 

They  came  to  themselves  slowly,  the  officer  last  of 
all,  for  Aristarchi's  blow  under  the  jaw  had  nearly 
killed  him,  whereas  the  other  five  men  had  only 
received  stunning  blows  on  different  parts  of  their 
thick  skulls.  In  half  an  hour  they  were  all  on  their 
feet,  though  some  of  them  were  very  unsteady,  and  in 
a  forlorn  train  they  made  the  best  of  their  way  back  to 
the  Governor's  palace.  Their  discomfiture  had  been  so 
sudden  and  complete  that  none  of  them  had  any  idea 
as  to  the  number  of  their  assailants ;  but  most  of  them 
agreed  that  as  they  came  within  sight  of  the  church, 
Zorzi  had  slackened  his  pace,  and  that  an  unholy  fire 


334  MARIETTA 

had  issued  from  his  eyes,  his  mouth  and  his  nostrils, 
while  he  made  strange  signs  in  the  air  with  his  crutch, 
and  suddenly  grew  to  a  gigantic  stature.  The  devils 
who  were  his  companions  had  immediately  appeared  in 
great  numbers,  and  though  the  archers  had  fought 
against  their  supernatural  adversaries  with  the  courage 
of  heroes,  they  had  been  struck  down  senseless  where 
they  stood ;  and  when  they  had  recovered  their  sight 
and  their  other  understanding,  Zorzi  had  long  since 
vanished  to  the  kingdom  of  darkness  which  was  his 
natural  abode. 

Those  things  the  officer  told  the  Governor  on  the 
next  day,  and  the  men  solemnly  swore  to  them,  and 
they  were  all  written  down  by  the  official  scribe. 
But  the  Governor  raised  one  eyebrow  a  little,  and 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  twitched  strangely,  though 
he  made  no  remark  upon  what  had  been  said.  He 
remembered,  however,  that  Giovanni  had  advised 
him  to  send  a  very  strong  force  to  arrest  the  lame 
young  man,  from  which  he  argued  that  Zorzi  had 
powerful  friends,  and  that  Giovanni  knew  it.  He 
then  visited  the  scene  of  the  fight,  and  saw  that  there 
were  drops  of  blood  on  dry  stones,  which  was  not 
astonishing  and  which  gave  no  clue  whatever  to  the 
identity  of  the  rescuers.  He  pointed  out  quietly  to 
his  guide,  the  man  who  had  only  received  a  ducking, 
that  there  were  no  signs  of  fire  on  the  pavement  nor 
on  the  walls  of  the  houses,  which  was  a  strong  argu- 
ment against  any  theory  of  diabolical  intervention; 
and  this  the  man  was  reluctantly  obliged  to  admit. 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  335 

The  strangest  thing,  however,  was  that  the  people 
who  lived  near  by  seemed  to  have  heard  no  noise, 
though  one  old  man,  who  slept  badly,  believed  that 
he  had  heard  the  clatter  of  wood  and  iron  falling 
together,  and  then  a  splashing  in  the  canal;  and 
indeed  those  were  almost  the  only  sounds  that  had 
disturbed  the  night.  The  whole  affair  was  shrouded 
in  mystery,  and  the  Governor,  who  knew  that  his 
men  were  to  be  trusted  as  far  as  their  limited  intel- 
ligence could  go,  resolved  to  refer  the  matter  to  the 
Council  of  Ten  without  delay.  He  therefore  bade 
the  archers  hold  their  tongues  and  refuse  to  talk 
of  their  misadventure. 

On  that  night  Giovanni  had  suffered  the  greatest 
disappointment  he  remembered  in  his  whole  life. 
He  had  found  without  much  trouble  the  stone  that 
rang  hollow,  but  it  had  cost  him  great  pains  to  lift 
it,  and  the  sweat  ran  down  from  his  forehead  and 
dropped  upon  the  slab  as  he  slowly  got  it  up.  His 
heart  beat  so  that  he  fancied  he  could  hear  it,  both 
from  the  effort  he  made,  and  from  his  intense  excite- 
ment, now  that  the  thing  he  had  most  desired  in  the 
world  was  within  his  grasp.  At  last  the  big  stone 
was  raised  upright,  and  the  light  of  the  lamp  that 
stood  on  the  floor  fell  slanting  across  the  dark  hole. 
Giovanni  brought  the  lamp  to  the  edge  and  looked  in. 
He  could  not  see  the  box,  but  a  quantity  of  loose 
earth  lay  there,  under  which  it  was  doubtless  buried. 
He  knelt  down  and  began  to  scoop  the  earth  out, 
using  his  two  hands  together.  Then  he  thrust  one  hand 


336  MARIETTA 

in,  and   felt  about   for  the  box.     There  was   nothing' 
there.     He   cleared   out    the    cavity   thoroughly,   and 
tried    to   loosen   the   soil   at   the    bottom,  tearing   his 
nails   in   his   excitement.     It   must  be   there,  he  was 
sure. 

But  it  was  not.  When  he  realised  that  he  had  been 
tricked,  he  collapsed,  kneeling  as  he  was,  and  sat  upon 
his  heels,  and  his  crooked  hands  all  dark  with  the 
dusty  earth  clutched  at  the  stones  beside  him.  He 
remained  thus  a  long  time,  staring  at  the  empty  hole. 
Then  caution,  which  was  even  stronger  in  his  nature 
than  greed,  brought  him  to  himself.  His  thin  face 
was  grey  and  haggard  as  he  carefully  swept  the  earth 
back  to  its  place,  removing  all  traces  of  what  he  had 
done.  Then  he  knew  how  foolish  he  had  been  to 
let  Zorzi  know  what  he  had  partly  heard  and  partly 
guessed. 

Of  course,  as  soon  as  Zorzi  understood  that  Giovanni 
had  found  out  where  the  book  was,  he  had  taken  it  out 
and  put  it  away  in  a  safer  place,  to  which  Giovanni 
had  no  clue  at  all.  Zorzi  was  diabolically  clever,  and 
would  not  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  hide  the  treasure 
again  in  the  same  room  or  in  the  same  way.  It  was 
probably  in  the  garden  now,  but  it  would  take  a  strong 
man  a  day  or  two  to  dig  up  all  the  earth  there  to  the 
depth  at  which  the  book  must  have  been  buried. 
Zorzi  must  have  done  the  work  at  night,  after  the 
furnaces  were  out,  and  when  there  were  no  night  boys 
to  watch  him.  But  then,  the  boys  had  been  feeding 
the  fires  in  the  laboratory  until  the  previous  night,  and 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  337 

it  followed  that  he  must  have  buried  the  box  this  very 
evening. 

Giovanni  got  the  slab  back  into  its  place  without 
injuring  it,  and  he  rubbed  the  edges  with  dust,  and 
swept  the  place  with  a  broom,  as  Zorzi  had  done  twice 
already.  Then  he  took  the  lamp  and  set  it  on  the 
table  before  the  window.  The  light  fell  on  the  gold 
piece  that  lay  there.  He  took  it,  examined  it  carefully, 
and  slipped  it  into  his  wallet  with  a  sort  of  mechanical 
chuckle.  He  glanced  at  the  furnace  next,  and  recol- 
lected that  the  precious  pieces  Zorzi  had  made  were 
in  the  annealing  oven.  But  that  did  not  matter,  for 
the  fires  would  now  go  out  and  the  whole  furnace 
would  slowly  cool,  so  that  the  annealing  would  be 
very  perfect.  No  one  but  he  could  enter  the  labora- 
tory, now  that  Zorzi  was  gone,  and  he  could  take  the 
pieces  to  his  own  house  at  his  leisure.  They  were 
substantial  proofs  of  Zorzi's  wickedness  in  breaking 
the  laws  of  Venice,  however,  and  it  would  perhaps  be 
wiser  to  leave  them  where  they  were,  until  the  Gov- 
ernor should  take  cognizance  of  their  existence. 

His  first  disappointment  turned  to  redoubled  hatred 
of  the  man  who  had  caused  it,  and  whom  it  was  safer 
to  hate  now  than  formerly,  since  he  was  in  the  clutches 
of  the  law;  moreover,  the  defeat  of  Giovanni's  hopes 
was  by  no  means  final,  after  the  first  shock  was  over. 
He  could  make  an  excuse  for  having  the  garden  dug 
over,  on  pretence  of  improving  it  during  his  father's 
absence;  the  more  easily,  as  he  had  learned  that  the 
garden  had  always  been  under  Zorzi's  care,  and  must 
z 


338  MARIETTA 

now  be  cultivated  by  some  one  else.  Giovanni  did  not 
believe  it  possible  that  the  precious  box  had  been  taken 
away  altogether.  It  was  therefore  near,  and  he  could 
find  it,  and  there  would  be  plenty  of  time  before  his 
father's  return.  Nevertheless,  he  looked  about  the 
laboratory  and  went  into  the  small  room  where 
Zorzi  had  slept.  There  was  water  there,  and  Span- 
ish soap,  and  he  washed  his  hands  carefully,  and 
brushed  the  dust  from  his  coat  and  from  the  knees  of 
his  fine  black  hose.  He  knew  that  his  patient  wife 
would  be  waiting  for  him  when  he  went  back  to  the 
house. 

He  searched  Zorzi's  room  carefully,  but  could 
find  nothing.  An  earthen  jar  containing  broken 
white  glass  stood  in  one  corner.  The  narrow  truckle- 
bed,  with  its  single  thin  mattress  and  flattened 
pillow,  all  neat  and  trim,  could  not  have  hidden 
anything.  On  a  line  stretched  across  from  wall  to 
wall  a  few  clothes  were  hanging  —  a  pair  of  discon- 
solate brown  hose,  the  waistband  on  the  one  side  of 
the  line  hanging  down  to  meet  the  feet  on  the  other, 
two  clean  shirts,  and  a  Sunday  doublet.  On  the  wall 
a  cap  with  a  black  eagle's  feather  hung  by  a  nail. 
Here  and  there  on  the  white  plaster,  Zorzi  had 
roughly  sketched  with  a  bit  of  charcoal  some  pieces 
of  glass  which  he  had  thought  of  making.  That 
was  all.  The  floor  was  paved  with  bricks,  and  a 
short  examination  showed  that  none  of  them  had 
been  moved. 

Giovanni   turned   back    into  the  laboratory,   stood 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  339 

a  moment  looking  disconsolately  at  the  big  stone 
which  it  had  cost  him  so  much  fruitless  labour  to 
move,  and  then  passed  round  by  the  other  side 
of  the  furnace,  along  the  wall  against  which  the 
bench  and  the  easy  chair  were  placed.  His  eye 
fell  on  Marietta's  silk  mantle,  which  lay  as  when  it 
had  slipped  down  from  her  shoulders,  the  skirts  of 
it  trailing  on  the  floor.  His  brows  contracted  sud- 
denly. He  came  nearer,  felt  the  stuff,  and  was  sure 
that  he  recognised  it.  Then  he  looked  at  it,  as  it 
lay.  It  had  the  unmistakable  appearance  of  having 
been  left,  as  it  had  been,  by  the  person  who  had 
last  sat  in  the  chair. 

Two  explanations  of  the  presence  of  the  mantle  in 
the  laboratory  suggested  themselves  to  him  at  once, 
but  the  idea  that  Marietta  could  herself  have  been 
seated  in  the  chair  not  long  ago  was  so  absurd  that 
he  at  once  adopted  the  other.  Zorzi  had  stolen 
the  mantle,  and  used  it  for  himself  in  the  evening, 
confident  that  no  one  would  see  him.  To-night 
he  had  been  surprised  and  had  left  it  in  the  chair, 
another  and  perhaps  a  crowning  proof  of  his  atrocious 
crimes.  Was  he  not  a  thief,  as  well  as  a  liar  and 
an  assassin?  Giovanni  knew  well  enough  that  the 
law  would  distinguish  between  stealing  the  art  of 
glass-making,  which  was  merely  a  civil  offence, 
though  a  grave  one,  and  stealing  a  mantle  of  silk 
which  he  estimated  to  be  worth  at  least  two  or  three 
pieces  of  gold.  That  was  theft,  and  it  was  criminal, 
and  it  was  one  of  many  crimes  which  Zorzi  had 


840  MARIETTA 

undoubtedly  committed.  The  hangman  would  twist 
the  rest  out  of  him  with  the  rack  and  the  iron  boot, 
thought  Giovanni  gleefully.  The  Governor  should 
see  the  mantle  with  his  own  eyes. 

Before  he  went  away,  he  was  careful  to  fasten 
the  window  securely  inside,  and  he  locked  the  door 
after  him,  taking  the  key.  He  carried  the  brass 
lamp  with  him,  for  the  corridor  was  very  dark  and 
the  night  was  quite  still. 

Pasquale  was  seated  on  the  edge  of  his  box-bed 
in  his  little  lodge  when  Giovanni  came  to  the  door. 
He  was  more  like  a  big  and  very  ugly  watch-dog 
crouching  in  his  kennel  than  anything  else. 

"Let  no  one  try  to  go  into  the  laboratory,"  said 
Giovanni,  setting  down  the  lamp.  "  I  have  locked  it 
myself." 

Pasquale  snarled  something  incomprehensible,  by  way 
of  reply,  and  rose  to  let  Giovanni  out.  He  noticed 
that  the  latter  had  brought  nothing  but  the  lamp  with 
him.  When  the  door  was  open  Pasquale  looked  across 
at  the  house,  and  saw  that  although  there  was  still  light 
in  some  of  the  other  windows,  Marietta's  window  was 
now  dark.  She  was  safe  in  bed,  for  Giovanni's  search 
had  occupied  more  than  an  hour. 

Marietta  might  have  breathed  somewhat  more  freely 
if  she  had  known  that  her  brother  did  not  even  suspect 
her  of  having  been  to  the  laboratory,  but  the  know- 
ledge would  have  been  more  than  balanced  by  a  still 
greater  anxiety  if  she  had  been  told  that  Zorzi  could 
be  accused  of  a  common  theft. 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  341 

She  sat  up  in  the  dark  and  pressed  her  throbbing 
temples  with  her  hands.  She  thought,  if  she  thought 
at  all,  of  getting  up  again  and  going  back  to  the  glass- 
house. Pasquale  would  let  her  in,  of  course,  and  she 
could  get  the  mantle  back.  But  there  was  Nella, 
in  the  next  room,  and  Nella  seemed  to  be  always 
awake,  and  would  hear  her  stirring  and  come  in  to 
know  if  she  wanted  anything.  Besides,  she  was  in  the 
dark.  The  night  light  burned  always  in  Nella's  room, 
a  tiny  wick  supported  by  a  bit  of  split  cork  in  an 
earthen  cup  of  oil,  most  carefully  tended,  for  if  it  went 
out,  it  could  only  be  lighted  by  going  down  to  the  hall 
where  a  large  lamp  burned  all  night. 

Marietta  laid  her  head  upon  the  pillow  and  tried  to 
sleep,  repeating  over  and  over  again  to  herself  that 
Zorzi  was  safe.  But  for  a  long  time  the  thought  of  the 
mantle  haunted  her.  Giovanni  had  found  it,  of  course, 
and  had  brought  it  back  with  him.  In  the  morning  he 
would  send  for  her  and  demand  an  explanation,  and 
she  would  have  none  to  give.  She  would  have  to 
admit  that  she  had  been  in  the  laboratory  —  it  mattered 
little  when  —  and  that  she  had  forgotten  her  mantle 
there.  It  would  be  useless  to  deny  it. 

Then  all  at  once  she  looked  the  future  in  the  face, 
and  she  saw  a  little  light.  She  would  refuse  to  answer 
Giovanni's  questions,  and  when  her  father  came  back 
she  would  tell  him  everything.  She  would  tell  him 
bravely  that  nothing  could  make  her  marry  Contarini, 
that  she  loved  Zorzi  and  would  marry  him,  or  no  one. 
The  mantle  would  probably  be  forgotten  in  the  angry 


342  MARIETTA 

discussion  that  would  follow.  She  hoped  so,  for  even 
her  father  would  never  forgive  her  for  having  gone 
alone  at  night  to  find  Zorzi.  If  he  ever  found  it  out, 
he  would  make  her  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  in  a  con- 
vent, and  it  would  break  his  heart  that  she  should  have 
thus  cast  all  shame  to  the  winds  and  brought  disgrace 
on  his  old  age.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that  he  could 
look  upon  it  in  any  other  way. 

She  dreaded  to  think  of  the  weeks  that  might  pass 
before  he  returned.  He  had  spoken  of  making  a  long 
journey  and  she  knew  that  he  had  gone  southward  to 
Rimini  to  please  the  great  Sigismondo  Malatesta,  who 
had  heard  of  Beroviero's  stained  glass  windows  and 
mosaics  in  Florence  and  Naples,  and  would  not  be  out- 
done in  the  possession  of  beautiful  things.  But  no  one 
knew  more  than  that.  She  was  only  sure  that  he 
would  come  back  some  time  before  her  intended 
marriage,  and  there  would  still  be  time  to  break  it  off. 
The  thought  gave  her  some  comfort,  and  toward  morn- 
ing she  fell  into  an  uneasy  sleep.  Of  all  who  had 
played  a  part  in  that  eventful  night  she  slept  the  least, 
for  she  had  the  most  at  stake  ;  her  fair  name,  Zorzi's 
safety,  her  whole  future  life  were  in  the  balance,  and 
she  was  sure  that  Giovanni  would  send  for  her  in  the 
morning. 

She  awoke  weary  and  unrefreshed  when  the  sun  was 
already  high.  She  scarcely  had  energy  to  clap  her 
hands  for  Nella,  and  after  the  window  was  open  she 
still  lay  listlessly  on  her  pillow.  The  little  woman 
looked  at  her  rather  anxiously  but  said  nothing  at  first, 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  343 

setting  the  big  dish  with  fruit  and  water  on  the  table 
as  usual,  and  busying  herself  with  her  mistress's  clothes.* 
She  opened  the  great  carved  wardrobe,  and  she  hung 
up  some  things  and  took  out  others,  in  a  methodical 
way. 

"  Where  is  your  silk  mantle  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly, 
as  she  missed  the  garment  from  its  accustomed  place. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Marietta  quite  naturally, 
for  she  had  expected  the  question. 

Her  reply  was  literally  true,  since  she  had  every 
reason  for  believing  that  Giovanni  had  brought  it  back 
with  him  in  the  night,  but  -could  have  no  idea  as  to 
where  he  had  put  it.  Nella  began  to  search  anxiously, 
turning  over  everything  in  the  wardrobe  and  the  few 
things  that  hung  over  the  chairs. 

"  You  could  not  have  put  it  into  the  chest,  could 
you  ?  "  she  asked,  pausing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and 
looking  at  Marietta. 

"  No.  I  am  sure  I  did  not,"  answered  the  girl.  "  I 
never  do." 

"  Then  it  has  been  stolen,"  said  Nella,  and  her  face 
darkened  wrathfully. 

"  How  is  such  a  thing  possible  ? "  asked  Marietta 
carelessly.  "  It  must  be  somewhere." 

This  appeared  to  be  certain,  but  Nella  denied  it  with 
energy,  her  eyes  fixed  on  Marietta  almost  as  angrily  as 
if  she  suspected  her  of  having  stolen  her  own  mantle 
from  herself. 

"  I  tell  you  it  is  not,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  looked 
everywhere.  It  has  been  stolen." 


344  MARIETTA 

"  Have  you  looked  in  your  own  room  ? "  inquired 
Marietta  indifferently,  and  turning  her  head  on  her 
pillow,  as  if  she  were  tired  of  meeting  Nella's  eyes, 
as  indeed  she  was. 

"  My  own  room  indeed  !  "  cried  the  maid  indignantly. 
"  As  if  I  did  not  know  what  is  in  my  own  room  !  As 
if  your  new  silk  mantle  could  hide  itself  amongst  my 
four  rags  !  " 

Why  Nella  and  her  kind,  to  this  day,  use  the  number 
four  in  contempt,  rather  than  three  or  five,  is  a  mystery 
of  what  one  might  call  the  psychical  side  of  the  Italian 
language.  Marietta  did  not  answer. 

"It  has  been  stolen,"  Nella  repeated,  with  gloomy 
emphasis.  "  I  trust  no  one  in  this  house,  since  your 
brother  and  his  wife  have  been  here,  with  their  ser- 
vants." 

"  My  sister-in-law  was  obliged  to  bring  one  of  her 
women,"  objected  Marietta. 

"  She  need  not  have  brought  that  sour-faced  shrew, 
who  walks  about  the  house  all  day  repeating  the 
rosary  and  poking  her  long  nose  into  what  does  nol 
belong  to  her.  But  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  Signor  Gio- 
vanni. I  will  tell  the  housekeeper  that  your  mantle 
has  been  stolen,  and  all  the  women's  belongings  shal 
be  searched  before  dinner,  and  we  shall  find  the  mantle 
in  that  evil  person's  box." 

"  You  must  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  answered  Mari- 
etta in  a  tone  of  authority. 

She  sat  up  in  bed  at  last,  and  threw  the  thick  braic 
of  hair  behind  her,  as  every  woman  does  when  her  hair 
is  down,  if  she  means  to  assert  herself. 


ff    UN1VEK5I I  T    « 

A  MAID  OF  V^&SSS^       345 

"  Ah,"  cried  Nella  mockingly,  "  I  see  that  you  are 
content  to  lose  your  best  things  without  looking  for 
them  !  Then  let  us  throw  everything  out  of  the  win- 
dow at  once  !  We  shall  make  a  fine  figure  !  " 

"  I  will  speak  to  my  brother  about  it  myself,"  said 
Marietta. 

Indeed  she  thought  it  extremely  likely  that  Gio- 
vanni would  oblige  her  to  speak  of  it  within  an  hour. 

"  You  will  only  make  trouble  among  the  servants," 
she  added. 

"  Oh,  as  you  please  !  "  snorted  Nella  discontentedly. 
"  I  only  tell  you  that  I  know  who  took  it.  That  is  all. 
Please  to  remember  that  I  said  so,  when  it  is  too  late. 
And  as  for  trouble,  there  is  not  one  of  us  in  the  house 
who  would  not  like  to  be  searched  for  the  sake  of 
sending  your  sister-in-law's  maid  to  prison,  where  she 
belongs  !  " 

"  Nella,"  said  Marietta,  "  I  do  not  care  a  straw  about 
the  mantle.  I  want  you  to  do  something  very  im- 
portant. I  am  sure  that  Zorzi  has  been  arrested 
unjustly,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Governor  will 
keep  him  in  prison.  Can  you  not  get  your  friend  the 
gondolier  to  go  to  the  Governor's  palace  before  mid- 
day, and  ask  whether  Zorzi  is  to  be  let  out  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  can.  By  and  by  I  will  call  him.  He 
is  busy  cleaning  the  gondola  now." 

Marietta  had  spoken  quite  quietly,  though  she  had 
expected  that  her  voice  would  shake,  and  she  had  been 
almost  sure  that  she  was  going  to  blush.  But  nothing 
so  dreadful  happened,  though  she  had  prepared  for  it 


346  MARIETTA 

by  turning  her  back  on  Nella.  She  sat  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  slowly  feeling  her  way  into  her  little  yellow 
leathern  slippers.  It  was  a  relief  to  know  that  even 
now  she  could  speak  of  Zorzi  without  giving  any  out- 
ward sign  of  emotion,  and  she  felt  a  little  encouraged, 
as  she  began  the  dreaded  day. 

She  took  a  long  time  in  dressing,  for  she  expected 
at  every  moment  that  her  sister-in-law's  maid  would 
knock  at  the  door  with  a  message  from  Giovanni,  bid- 
ding her  come  to  him  before  he  went  out.  But  no  one 
came,  though  it  was  already  past  the  hour  at  which  he 
usually  left  the  house.  All  at  once  she  heard  his 
unmistakable  voice  through  the  open  window,  and  on 
looking  out  through  the  flowers  she  saw  him  standing 
at  the  open  door  of  the  glass-house,  talking  with  the 
porter,  or  rather,  giving  instructions  about  the  garden 
which  Pasquale  received  in  surly  silence. 

Marietta  listened  in  surprise.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  Giovanni  should  not  take  her  to  task  at  once  if  he 
had  found  the  mantle.  He  was  not  the  kind  of  man 
to  put  off  accusing  any  one  when  he  had  proof  of  guilt 
and  was  sure  that  the  law  was  on  his  side,  and  Marietta 
felt  sure  that  the  evidence  against  her  was  overwhelm- 
ing, for  she  had  yet  to  learn  what  amazing  things  can 
be  done  with  impunity  by  people  who  have  the  reputa- 
tion of  perfect  innocence. 

Giovanni  was  telling  Pasquale,  in  a  tone  which 
every  one  might  hear,  that  he  had  sent  for  a  gardener, 
who  would  soon  come  with  a  lad  to  help  him,  that  the 
two  must  be  admitted  at  once,  and  that  he  himself 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  347 

would  be  within  to  receive  them  ;  but  that  no  one  else 
was  to  be  allowed  to  go  in,  as  he  should  be  extremely 
busy  all  the  morning.  Having  said  these  things 
three  or  four  times  over,  in  order  to  impress  them  on 
Pasquale's  mind,  he  went  in.  The  porter  looked  up  at 
Marietta's  window  a  moment,  and  then  followed  him 
and  shut  the  door.  It  was  clear  that  Giovanni  had  no 
intention  of  speaking  to  his  sister  before  the  mid-day 
meal.  She  breathed  more  freely,  since  she  was  to  have 
a  respite  of  several  hours. 

When  she  was  dressed,  Nella  called  the  gondolier 
from  her  own  window,  and  met  him  in  the  passage 
when  he  came  up.  He  at  once  promised  to  make 
inquiries  about  Zorzi  and  went  off  to  the  palace  to 
find  his  friend  and  crony,  the  Governor's  head  boat- 
man. The  latter,  it  is  needless  to  say,  knew  every 
detail  of  the  supernatural  rescue  from  the  archers, 
who  could  talk  of  nothing  else  in  spite  of  the  Gov- 
ernor's prohibition.  They  sat  in  a  row  on  the  stone 
bench  within  the  main  entrance,  a  rueful  crew,  their 
heads  bound  up  with  a  pleasing  variety  of  bandages. 
In  an  hour  the  gondolier  returned,  laden  with  the 
wonderful  story  which  Nella  was  the  first,  but  not  the 
last,  to  hear  from  him.  Her  brown  eyes  seemed  to  be 
starting  from  her  head  when  she  came  back  to  tell  it  to 
her  mistress. 

Marietta  listened  with  a  beating  heart,  though  Nella 
began  at  once  by  saying  that  Zorzi  had  mysteriously 
disappeared,  and  was  certainly  not  in  prison.  When 
all  was  told,  she  drew  a  long  breath,  and  wished  that 


348  MARIETTA 

she  could  be  alone  to  think  over  what  she  had  heard  ? 
but  Nella's  imagination  was  roused,  and  she  was  pre- 
pared to  discuss  the  affair  all  the  morning.  The  details 
of  it  had  become  more  and  more  numerous  and  circum- 
stantial, as  the  men  with  the  bandaged  heads  recalled 
what  they  had  seen  and  heard.  The  devils  that  had 
delivered  Zorzi  all  had  blue  noses,  brass  teeth  and 
fiery  tails.  A  peculiarity  of  theirs  was  that  they  had 
six  fingers  with  six  iron  claws  on  each  hand,  and  that 
all  their  hoofs  were  red-hot.  As  to  their  numbers, 
they  might  be  roughly  estimated  at  a  thousand  or  so, 
and  their  roaring  was  like  the  howling  of  the  south 
wind  and  the  breaking  of  the  sea  on  the  Lido  in  a 
winter  storm.  It  was  horrible  to  hear,  and  would 
alone  have  put  all  the  armies  of  the  Republic  to 
ignominious  flight.  Nella  thought  these  things  very 
interesting.  She  wished  that  she  might  talk  with  one 
of  the  men  who  had  seen  a  real  devil. 

"  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  all  that  nonsense,"  said 
Marietta.  "The  most  important  thing  is  that  Zorzi 
got  away  from,  them  and  is  not  in  prison." 

"If  he  escaped  by  selling  his  soul  to  the  fiends," 
said  Nella,  shaking  her  head,  "  it  is  a  very  evil  thing." 

Her  mistress's  disbelief  in  the  blue  noses  and  fiery 
tails  was  disconcerting,  and  had  a  chilling  effect  on 
Nella's  talkative  mood.  The  gondolier  had  crossed  the 
bridge,  to  tell  his  story  to  Pasquale,  whose  view  of  the 
case  seemed  to  differ  from  Nella's.  He  listened  with 
approving  interest,  but  without  comment,  until  the 
gondolier  had  finished. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  849 

"I  could  tell  you  many  such  stories,"  he  said. 
"  Things  of  this  kind  often  happen  at  sea." 

"  Really  !  "  exclaimed  the  gondolier,  who  was  only  a 
boatman  and  regarded  real  sailors  with  a  sort  of  profes- 
sional reverence. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Pasquale.  "Especially  on  Sundays. 
You  must  know  that  when  the  priests  are  all  saying 
mass,  and  the  people  are  all  praying,  the  devils  can- 
not bear  it,  and  are  driven  out  to  sea  for  the  day. 
Very  strange  things  happen  then,  I  assure  you.  Some 
day  I  will  tell  you  how  the  boatswain  of  a  ship  I  once 
sailed  in  rove  the  end  of  the  devil's  tail  through  a  link 
of  the  chain,  made  a  Flemish  knot  at  the  end  to  stop  it, 
and  let  go  the  anchor.  So  the  devil  went  to  the  bottom 
by  the  run.  We  unshackled  the  chain  and  wore  the 
ship  to  the  wind,  and  after  that  we  had  fair  weather  to 
the  end  of  the  voyage.  It  happened  on  a  Sunday." 

"  Marvellous  !  "  cried  the  gondolier.  "  I  should  like 
to  hear  the  whole  story  I  But  if  you  will  allow  me,  I 
will  go  in  and  tell  the  Signor  Giovanni  what  has  hap- 
pened, for  he  does  not  know  yet." 

Pasquale  grinned  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  He  has  given  strict  orders  that  no  one  is  to  be 
admitted  this  morning,  as  he  is  very  busy." 

"  But  this  is  a  very  important  matter,"  argued  the 
gondolier,  who  wished  to  have  the  pleasure  of  telling 
the  tale. 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  answered  Pasquale.  "  Those  are 
his  orders,  and  I  must  obey  them.  You  know  what  hia 
temper  is,  when  he  is  not  pleased." 


350  MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF   VENICE 

Just  then  a  skiff  came  up  the  canal  at  a  great  rate,  so 
that  the  quick  strokes  of  the  oar  attracted  the  men's 
attention.  They  saw  that  the  boat  was  one  of  those 
that  could  be  hired  everywhere  in  Venice.  The  oars- 
man backed  water  with  a  strong  stroke  and  brought  to 
at  the  steps  before  the  glass-house. 

"Are  you  not  Messer  Angelo  Beroviero's  gon- 
dolier ?  "  he  inquired  civilly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  man  addressed,  "  I  am  the  head 
gondolier,  at  your  service." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  boatman.  "  I  am  to  tell 
you  that  Messer  Angelo  has  just  arrived  in  Venice  by 
sea,  from  Rimini,  on  board  the  Santa  Lucia,  a  Neapoli- 
tan galliot  now  at  anchor  in  the  Giudecca.  He  desires 
you  to  bring  his  gondola  at  once  to  fetch  him,  and  I  am 
to  bring  over  his  baggage  in  my  skiff." 

The  gondolier  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
and  then  turned  to  Pasquale. 

"  I  go,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  tell  the  Signor  Giovanni 
that  his  father  is  coming  home  ?  " 

Pasquale  grinned  again.  He  was  rarely  in  such  a 
pleasant  humour. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  answered.  "The  Signor  Gio- 
vanni is  very  busy,  and  has  given  strict  orders  that  he  is 
not  to  be  disturbed  on  any  account." 

"That  is  your  affair,"  said  the  gondolier,  hurrying 
away. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  LITTLE  more  than  an  hour  later,  the  gondola  came 
back  and  stopped  alongside  the  steps  of  the  house. 
The  gondolier  had  made  such  haste  to  obey  the  sum- 
mons that  he  had  not  thought  of  going  into  the  house 
to  give  the  servants  warning,  and  as  most  of  the  shut- 
ters were  already  drawn  together  against  the  heat,  no 
one  had  be°n  looking  out  when  he  went  away.  He  had 
asked  Pa  quale  to  tell  the  young  master,  and  that  was 
all  that  could  be  expected  of  him.  There  was  therefore 
great  surprise  in  the  household  when  Angelo  Beroviero 
went  up  the  steps  of  his  house,  and  his  own  astonish- 
ment that  no  one  should  be  there  to  receive  him  was 
almost  as  great.  The  gondolier  explained,  and  told 
him  what  Pasquale  had  said. 

It  was  enough  to  rouse  the  old  man's  suspicions  at 
once.  He  had  left  Zorzi  in  charge  of  the  laboratory, 
enjoining  upon  him  not  to  encourage  Giovanni  to  go 
there;  but  now  Giovanni  was  shut  up  there,  presum- 
ably with  Zorzi,  and  had  given  orders  that  he  was  not 
to  be  disturbed.  The  gondolier  had  not  dared  to  say 
anything  about  the  Dalmatian's  arrest,  and  Beroviero 
was  quite  ignorant  of  all  that  had  happened.  He  was 
not  a  man  who  hesitated  when  his  suspicions  or  his 
temper  were  at  work,  and  now  he  turned,  without 

861 

' 


352  MARIETTA 

even  entering  his  home,  and  crossed  the  bridge  to  the 
glass-house.  Pasquale  was  looking  through  the  grating 
and  saw  him  coming,  and  was  ready  to  receive  him  at 
the  open  door.  For  the  third  time  on  that  morning, 
he  grinned  from  ear  to  ear.  Beroviero  was  pleased  by 
the  silent  welcome  of  his  old  and  trusted  servant. 

"  You  seem  glad  to  see  me  again,"  he  said,  laying 
his  hand  kindly  on  the  old  porter's  arm  as  he  passed  in. 

"  Others  will  be  glad,  too,"  was  the  answer. 

As  he  went  down  the  corridor  Beroviero  heard  the 
sound  of  spades  striking  into  the  earth  and  shovelling 
it  away.  The  gardener  and  his  lad  had  been  at  work 
nearly  two  hours,  and  had  turned  up  most  of  the  earth 
in  the  little  flower-beds  to  a  depth  of  two  or  three  feet 
during  that  time,  while  Giovanni  sat  motionless  under 
the  plane-tree,  watching  every  movement  of  their 
spades.  He  rose  nervously  when  he  heard  footsteps 
in  the  corridor,  for  he  did  not  wish  any  one  to  find 
him  seated  there,  apparently  watching  a  most  common- 
place operation  with  profound  interest.  He  had  made 
a  step  towards  the  door  of  the  laboratory,  when  he  saw 
his  father  emerge  from  the  dark  passage.  He  was  a 
coward,  and  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  his  teeth 
chattered  in  his  head,  and  the  cold  sweat  moistened 
his  forehead  in  an  instant.  The  old  man  stood  still 
four  or  five  paces  from  him  and  looked  from  him  to 
the  men  who  had  been  digging.  On  seeing  the  master 
they  stopped  working  and  pulled  off  their  knitted  caps. 
As  a  further  sign  of  respect  they  wiped  their  dripping 
faces  with  their  shirt  sleeves. 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  353 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  Beroviero  in 
a  tone  of  displeasure.  "The  garden  was  very  well 
as  it  was." 

"I  —  I  thought,"  stammered  Giovanni,  "that  it 
would — that  it  might  be  better  to  dig  it  — " 

"  It  would  not  be  better,"  answered  the  old  man. 
"  You  may  go,"  he  added,  speaking  to  the  men,  who 
were  glad  enough  to  be  dismissed. 

Beroviero  passed  his  son  without  further  words  and 
tried  the  door  of  the  laboratory,  but  found  it  locked. 

"What  is  this?"  he  asked  angrily.  "Where  is 
Zorzi?  I  told  him  not  to  leave  you  here  alone." 

"  You  had  great  confidence  in  him,"  answered  Gio- 
vanni, recovering  himself  a  little.  "  He  is  in  prison." 

He  took  the  key  from  his  wallet  and  thrust  it  into 
the  lock  as  he  spoke. 

"  In  prison ! "  cried  Beroviero  in  a  loud  voice. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

Giovanni  held  the  door  open  for  him. 

"I  will  tell  you  all  about  Zorzi,  if  you  will  come  in," 
he  said. 

Beroviero  entered,  stood  still  a  moment  and  looked 
about.  Everything  was  as  Zorzi  had  left  it,  but  the 
glass-maker's  ear  missed  the  low  roar  of  the  furnace. 
Instinctively  he  made  a  step  towards  the  latter,  extend- 
ing his  hand  to  see  whether  it  was  already  cold,  but 
at  that  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  silk  mantle  in 
the  chair.  He  glanced  quickly  at  his  son. 

"Has  Marietta  been  here  with  you  this  morning?" 
he  asked  sharply. 

2A 


354  MARIETTA 

"  Oh  no ! "  answered  Giovanni  contemptuously. 
"  Zorzi  stole  that  thing  and  had  not  time  to  hide  it 
when  they  arrested  him  last  night.  I  left  it  just 
where  it  was,  that  the  Governor  might  see  it." 

Beroviero's  face  changed  slowly.  His  fiery  brown 
eyes  began  to  show  a  dangerous  light  and  he  stroked 
his  long  beard  quickly,  twisting  it  a  little  each  time. 

"  If  you  say  that  Zorzi  stole  Marietta's  silk  mantle," 
he  said  slowly,  "  you  are  either  a  fool  or  a  liar." 

"  You  are  my  father,"  answered  Giovanni  in  some 
perturbation.  "  I  cannot  answer  you." 

Beroviero  was  silent  for  a  long  time.  He  took  the 
mantle  from  the  chair,  examined  it  and  assured  himself 
that  it  was  Marietta's  own  and  no  other.  Then  he 
carefully  folded  it  up  and  laid  it  on  the  bench.  His 
brows  were  contracted  as  if  he  were  in  great  pain, 
and  his  face  was  pale,  but  his  eyes  were  still  angry. 

Giovanni  knew  the  signs  of  his  father's  wrath  and 
dared  not  speak  to  him  yet. 

"Is  this  the  evidence  on  which  you  have  had  my 
man  arrested?"  asked  Beroviero,  sitting  down  in  the 
big  chair  and  fixing  his  gaze  on  his  son. 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  Giovanni,  with  all  the 
coolness  he  could  command.  "  If  it  v  pleases  you  to 
hear  my  story  from  the  beginning  I  will  tell  you  all. 
If  you  do  not  hear  all,  you  cannot  possibly  under- 
stand." 

"I  am  listening,"  said  old  Beroviero,  leaning  back 
and  laying  his  hands  on  the  broad  wooden  arms  of  the 
chair. 


A   MAID   OP   VENICE  355 

"  I  shall  tell  you  everything,  exactly  as  it  happened," 
said  Giovanni,  "  and  I  swear  that  it  is  all  true." 

Beroviero  reflected  that  in  his  experience  this  was 
usually  the  way  in  which  liars  introduced  their 
accounts  of  events.  For  truth  is  like  a  work  of 
genius :  it  carries  conviction  with  it  at  once,  and 
therefore  needs  no  recommendation,  nor  other  artificial 
support. 

"  After  you  left,"  Giovanni  continued,  "  I  came  here 
one  morning,  out  of  pure  friendliness  to  Zorzi,  and  as 
we  talked  I  chanced  to  look  at  those  things  on  the 
shelf.  When  I  admired  them,  he  admitted  rather 
reluctantly  that  he  had  made  them,  and  other  things 
which  you  have  in  your  house." 

Beroviero  gravely  nodded  his  assent  to  the  statement. 

"I  asked  him  to  make  me  something,"  Giovanni 
went  on  to  say,  "but  he  told  me  that  he  had  no 
white  glass  in  the  furnace,  and  that  what  was  there 
was  the  resmlt  of  your  experiments." 

Again  Beroviero  bent  his  head. 

"  So  I  asked  him  to  bring  his  blow-pipe  to  the  main 
furnace  room,  where  they  were  still  working  at  that 
time,  and  we  went  there  together.  He  at  once  made 
a  very  beautiful  piece,  and  was  just  finishing  it  when 
a  bad  accident  happened  to  him.  Another  man  let  his 
blow-pipe  fly  from  his  hand  and  it  fell  upon  Zorzi's 
foot  with  a  large  lump  of  hot  glass." 

Beroviero  looked  keenly  at  Giovanni. 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  it  could  not  have  been 
an  accident,"  he  said.  "  It  was  done  out  of  spite." 


856  MARIETTA 

"  That  may  be,"  replied  Giovanni,  "  for  the  men  do 
not  like  him,  as  you  know.  But  Zorzi  accepted  it  as 
being  an  accident,  and  said  so.  He  was  badly  hurt,  and 
is  still  lame.  Nella  dressed  the  wound,  and  then  Mari- 
etta came  with  her." 

"Are  you  sure  Marietta  came  here?"  asked  Bero- 
viero,  growing  paler. 

"  Quite  sure.  They  were  on  their  way  here  together 
early  in  the  morning  when  I  stopped  them,  and  asked 
Marietta  where  she  was  going,  and  she  boldly  said  she 
was  going  to  see  Zorzi.  I  could  not  prevent  her,  and 
I  saw  them  both  go  in." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  although  Zorzi  was  so 
badly  hurt  you  did  not  have  him  brought  to  the 
house  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  proposed  that  at  once,"  Giovanni  an- 
swered. "  But  he  said  that  he  would  not  leave  the 
furnace." 

"  That  was  like  him,"  said  old  Beroviero. 

"  He  knew  what  he  was  doing.  It  was  on  that  same 
day  that  a  night  boy  told  me  how  he  had  seen  you  and 
Zorzi  burying  something  in  the  laboratory  the  night 
before  you  left." 

Beroviero  started  and  leaned  forward.  Giovanni 
smiled  thoughtfully,  for  he  saw  how  his  father  was 
moved,  and  he  knew  that  the  strongest  part  of  his 
story  was  yet  untold. 

"It  would  have  been  better  to  leave  Paolo  Godi's 
manuscript  with  me,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy. 
"  I  grew  anxious  for  its  safety  as  soon  as  I  knew  that 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  357 

Zorzi  had  charge  of  it.  Yesterday  morning  I  came  in 
again.  Zorzi  was  sitting  on  the  working-stool,  finish- 
ing a  beautiful  beaker  of  white  glass." 

"White  glass?"  repeated  Beroviero  in  evident  sur- 
prise. "  White  glass  ?  Here  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Giovanni,  enjoying  his  triumph. 
"I  pointed  out  that  when  I  had  last  come,  there  had 
been  no  white  glass  in  the  furnace.  He  answered  that 
as  one  of  the  experiments  had  produced  a  beautiful  red 
colour  which  he  thought  must  be  valuable,  he  had 
removed  the  crucible.  He  also  showed  me  a  specimen 
of  it." 

"Is  it  here?"  asked  Beroviero  anxiously.  "Where 
is  it?" 

Giovanni  took  the  specimen  from  the  table,  for  Zorzi 
had  left  it  lying  there,  and  he  handed  it  to  his  father. 
The  latter  took  it,  held  it  up  to  the  light,  and  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  astonishment  and  anger. 

"There  is  only  one  way  of  making  that,"  he  said, 
without  hesitation. 

"  Yes,"  Giovanni  answered  coolly.  "  I  supposed  it 
was  made  according  to  one  of  your  secrets." 

A  quick  look  was  the  only  reply  to  this  speech. 
Giovanni  continued. 

"  I  asked  him  to  sell  me  the  piece  of  glass  he  had 
been  making  when  he  came  in,  and  at  first  he  pretended 
that  he  was  not  sure  whether  you  would  allow  it,  but 
at  last  he  took  a  piece  of  gold  for  it,  and  I  was  to  have 
it  as  soon  as  it  was  annealed.  When  you  see  it,  you 
will  understand  why  I  was  so  anxious  to  get  it." 


358  MARIETTA 

"Where  is  it?"  asked  the  old  man.  "Show  it  to 
me." 

Giovanni  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  annealing 
oven,  and  came  back  a  moment  later  carrying  the  iron 
tray  on  which  stood  the  pieces  Zorzi  had  made  on  the 
previous  morning.  Beroviero  looked  at  them  critically, 
tried  their  weight,  and  noticed  their  transparency. 

"  That  is  not  my  glass,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  decision. 

"No,"  said  Giovanni,  "I  saw  that  it  was  not  your 
ordinary  glass.  It  seems  much  better.  Now  Zorzi 
must  have  made  it  in  a  new  crucible,  and  if  he  did,  he 
made  it  with  some  secret  of  yours,  for  it  is  impossible 
that  he  should  have  discovered  it  himself.  I  said  to 
myself  that  if  he  had  made  it,  and  the  red  glass  there, 
he  must  have  opened  the  book  which  you  had  buried 
together  in  this  room,  and  that  there  was  only  one  way 
of  hindering  him  from  learning  everything  in  it,  and 
ruining  you  and  us  by  setting  up  a  furnace  of  his 
own." 

Beroviero  was  looking  hard  at  Giovanni,  but  he  was 
now  thoroughly  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  his  treasured 
manuscript,  and  listened  with  attention  and  without 
any  hostility.  The  proofs  seemed  at  first  sight  very 
strong,  and  after  all  Zorzi  was  only  a  Dalmatian  and 
a  foreigner,  who  might  have  yielded  to  temptation. 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  asked  Beroviero. 

Giovanni  told  him  the  truth,  how  he  had  written  a 
letter  to  the  Governor,  and  had  seen  him  in  person,  as 
well  as  Jacopo  Contarini. 

"  Of  course,"  Giovanni  concluded,  "  you  know  best. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  359 

If  you  find  the  book  as  you  and  he  hid  it  together,  he 
must  have  learned  your  secrets  in  some  other  way." 

"  We  can  easily  see,"  answered  old  Beroviero,  rising 
quickly.  "  Come  here.  Get  the  crowbar  from  the 
corner,  and  help  me  to  lift  the  stone." 

Giovanni  took  pains  to  look  for  the  crowbar  exactly 
where  it  was  not,  for  he  thought  that  this  would  divert 
any  lingering  suspicion  from  himself,  but  Beroviero 
was  only  annoyed. 

"  There,  there !  "  he  cried,  pointing.  "  It  is  in  that 
corner.  Quickly ! " 

"It  would  be  like  the  clever  scoundrel  to  have 
copied  what  he  wanted  and  then  to  have  put  the  book 
back  into  the  hiding-place,"  said  Giovanni,  pausing. 

"  Do  not  waste  words,  my  son  ! "  cried  Beroviero  in 
the  greatest  anxiety.  "  Here !  This  is  the  stone. 
Get  the  crowbar  in  at  this  side.  So.  Now  we  will 
both  heave.  There !  Wedge  the  stone  up  with  that 
bit  of  wood.  That  will  do.  Now  let  us  both  get  our 
hands  under  it,  and  lift  it  up." 

It  was  done,  while  he  was  speaking.  A  moment 
later  Giovanni  had  scooped  out  the  loose  earth,  and 
Beroviero  was  staring  down  into  the  empty  hole,  just 
as  Giovanni  had  done  on  the  previous  night.  Giovanni 
was  almost  consoled  for  his  own  disappointment  when 
he  saw  his  father's  face. 

"  It  is  certainly  gone,"  he  said.  "  You  did  not  bury 
it  deeper,  did  you  ?  The  soil  is  hard  below." 

"  No,  no  !  It  is  gone ! "  answered  the  old  man  in  a 
dull  voice.  "  Zorzi  has  got  it." 


360  MARIETTA 

"  You  see,"  said  Giovanni  mercilessly,  "  when  I  saw 
the  red  and  white  glass  which  he  had  made  himself  I 
was  so  sure  of  the  truth  that  I  acted  quickly.  I  saw 
him  arrested,  and  I  do  not  think  he  could  have  had 
anything  like  a  book  with  him,  for  he  was  in  his 
doublet  and  hose.  And  as  he  is  safe  in  prison  now,  he 
can  be  made  to  tell  where  he  has  put  the  thing.  How 
big  was  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  in  an  iron  box.  It  was  heavy."  Beroviero 
spoke  in  low  tones,  overcome  by  his  loss,  and  by  the 
apparent  certainty  that  Zorzi  had  betrayed  him. 

"You  see  why  I  should  naturally  suspect  him  of 
having  stolen  the  mantle,"  observed  Giovanni.  "  A 
man  who  would  betray  your  confidence  in  such  a  way 
would  do  anything." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  old  master  vaguely.  "  Yes 
-I  must  go  and  see  him  in  prison.  I  was  kind  to 
him,  and  perhaps  he  may  confess  everything  to  me." 

"  We  might  ask  Marietta  when  she  first  missed  her 
mantle,"  suggested  Giovanni.  "  She  must  have  noticed 
that  it  was  gone." 

"She  will  not  remember,"  answered  Beroviero. 
"  Let  us  go  to  the  Governor's  house  at  once.  There  is 
just  time  before  mid-day.  We  can  speak  to  Marietta 
at  dinner." 

"  But  you  must  be  tired,  after  your  journey," 
objected  Giovanni,  with  unusual  concern  for  his 
father's  comfort. 

"No.  I  slept  well  on  the  ship.  I  have  done 
nothing  to  tire  me.  The  gondola  may  be  still  there, 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  361 

Tell  Pasquale  to  call  it  over,  and  we  will  go  directly. 
Go  on !  I  will  follow  you." 

Giovanni  went  forward,  and  Beroviero  stayed  a 
moment  to  look  again  at  the  beautiful  objects  of  white 
glass,  examining  them  carefully,  one  by  one.  The 
workmanship  was  marvellous,  and  he  could  not  help 
admiring  it,  but  it  was  the  glass  itself  that  disturbed 
him.  It  was  like  his  own,  but  it  was  better,  and  the 
knowledge  of  its  composition  and  treatment  was  a 
fortune.  Then,  too,  the  secret  of  dropping  a  piece  of 
copper  into  a  certain  mixture  in  order  to  produce  a 
particularly  beautiful  red  colour  was  in  the  book,  and 
the  colour  could  not  be  mistaken  and  was  not  the  one 
which  Beroviero  had  been  trying  to  produce.  He 
shook  his  head  sadly  as  he  went  out  and  locked  the 
door  behind  him,  convinced  against  his  will  that  he 
had  been  betrayed  by  the  man  whom  he  had  most 
trusted  in  the  world. 

Pasquale  watched  the  two,  father  and  son,  as  they 
got  into  the  gondola.  Old  Beroviero  had  not  even 
looked  at  him  as  he  came  out,  and  it  was  not  the 
porter's  business  to  volunteer  information,  nor  the 
gondolier's  either.  But  when  the  latter  was  ordered 
to  row  to  the  Governor's  house  as  fast  as  possible,  he 
turned  his  head  and  looked  at  Pasquale,  who  slowly 
nodded  his  ugly  head  before  going  in  again. 

On  reaching  their  destination  they  were  received  at 
once,  and  the  Governor  told  them  what  had  happened, 
in  as  few  words  as  possible.  Nothing  could  exceed 
old  Beroviero's  consternation,  and  his  son's  disappoint- 


362  MAEIETTA 

ment.  Zorzi  had  been  rescued  at  the  corner  of  San 
Piero's  church  by  men  who  had  knocked  senseless  the 
officer  and  the  six  archers.  No  one  knew  who  these 
men  were,  nor  their  numbers,  but  they  were  clearly 
friends  of  Zorzi's  who  had  known  that  he  was  to  be 
arrested. 

"  Accomplices,"  suggested  Giovanni.  "  He  has  stolen 
a  valuable  book  of  my  father's,  containing  secrets  for 
making  the  finest  glass.  By  this  time  he  is  on  his  way 
to  Milan,  or  Florence." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  the  Governor.  "  These  foreigners 
are  capable  of  anything." 

"I  had  trusted  him  so  confidently,"  said  Beroviero, 
too  much  overcome  to  be  angry. 

"  Exactly,"  answered  the  Governor.  "  You  trusted 
him  too  much." 

"  I  always  thought  so,"  put  in  Giovanni  wisely. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  said,"  resumed  Beroviero. 
"  I  do  not  wish  to  believe  it  of  him,  but  I  cannot  deny 
the  evidence  of  my  own  senses." 

"  I  have  already  sent  a  report  to  the  Council  of  Ten," 
said  the  Governor.  "  The  most  careful  search  will  be 
made  in  Venice  for  Zorzi  and  his  companions,  and  if 
they  are  found,  they  will  suffer  for  what  they  have 
done." 

"  I  hope  so !  "  replied  Giovanni  heartily. 

"I  remember  that  you  recommended  me  to  send  a 
strong  force,"  observed  the  Governor.  "Perhaps  you 
knew  that  a  rescue  was  intended.  Or  you  were  aware 
that  the  fellow  had  daring  accomplices." 


A   MAID   OP   VENICE  363 

"  I  only  suspected  it,"  Giovanni  answered.  "  I  knew 
nothing.  He  was  always  alone." 

"  He  has  hardly  been  out  of  my  sight  for  five  years," 
said  old  Beroviero  sadly. 

He  and  his  son  took  their  leave,  the  Governor  prom- 
ising to  keep  them  informed  as  to  the  progress  of  the 
search.  At  present  nothing  more  could  be  done,  for 
Zorzi  has  disappeared  altogether,  and  old  Beroviero 
was  much  inclined  to  share  his  son's  opinion  that  the 
fugitive  was  already  on  his  way  to  Milan,  or  Florence, 
where  the  possession  of  the  secrets  would  insure  him  a 
large  fortune,  very  greatly  to  the  injury  of  Beroviero 
and  all  the  glass-workers  of  Murano.  The  two  men  re- 
turned to  the  house  in  silence,  for  the  elder  was  too 
much  absorbed  by  his  own  thoughts  to  speak,  and  Gio- 
vanni was  too  wise  to  interrupt  reflections  which  un- 
doubtedly tended  to  Zorzi's  destruction. 

Marietta  was  awaiting  her  father's  return  with  much 
anxiety,  for  every  one  knew  that  the  master  had  gone 
first  to  the  laboratory  and  then  to  the  Governor's 
palace,  with  Giovanni,  so  that  the  two  must  have 
been  talking  together  a  long  time.  Marietta  waited 
with  her  sister-in-law  in  the  lower  hall,  slowly  walking 
up  and  down. 

When  her  father  came  up  the  low  steps  at  last,  she 
went  forward  to  meet  him,  and  a  glance  told  her  that  he 
was  in  the  most  extreme  anxiety.  She  took  his  hand 
and  kissed  it,  in  the  customary  manner,  and  he  bent 
a  little  and  touched  her  forehead  with  his  lips.  Then, 
to  her  surprise,  he  put  one  hand  under  her  chin,  and 


364  MARIETTA 

laid  the  other  on  the  top  of  her  head,  and  with  gentle 
force  made  her  look  at  him.  Giovanni's  wife  was  there, 
and  most  of  the  servants  were  standing  near  the  foot 
of  the  staircase  to  welcome  their  master. 

Beroviero  said  nothing  as  he  gazed  into  his  daugh- 
ter's eyes.  They  met  his  own  fearlessly  enough,  and 
she  opened  them  wide,  as  she  rarely  did,  as  if  to  show 
that  she  had  nothing  to  conceal ;  but  while  he  looked 
at  her  the  blood  rose  blushing  in  her  cheeks,  telling 
that  there  was  something  to  hide  after  all,  and  as  she 
would  not  turn  her  eyes  from  his,  they  sparkled  a  little 
with  vexation.  Beroviero  did  not  speak,  but  he  let  her 
go  and  went  on  towards  the  stairs,  bending  his  head 
graciously  to  the  other  persons  who  were  assembled  to 
greet  him. 

He  was  a  man  of  strong  character  and  of  much  nat- 
ural dignity,  far  too  proud  to  break  down  under  a  great 
loss  or  a  bitter  disappointment,  and  at  dinner  he  sat  at 
the  head  of  the  table  and  spoke  affably  of  the  journey 
he  had  made,  explaining  his  unexpectedly  early  return 
by  the  fact  that  the  Lord  of  Rimini  had  at  once  ap- 
proved his  designs  and  accepted  his  terms.  Occasion- 
ally Giovanni  asked  a  respectful  question,  but  neither 
his  wife  nor  Marietta  said  much  during  the  meal. 
Zorzi  was  not  mentioned. 

"  You  are  welcome  at  my  house,  my  son,"  Beroviero 
said,  when  they  had  finished,  "  but  I  suppose  that  you 
will  go  back  to  your  own  this  evening." 

This  was  of  course  a  command,  and  Marietta  thought 
it  a  good  omen.  She  had  felt  sure,  when  her  father 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  365 

made  her  look  at  him,  that  Giovanni  had  spoken  to 
him  of  the  mantle,  but  in  what  way  she  could  not  tell. 
Perhaps,  though  it  seemed  incredible,  he  would  not 
make  such  a  serious  case  of  it  as  she  had  expected. 

He  said  nothing,  when  he  withdrew  to  rest  during 
the  hot  hours  of  the  afternoon,  and  she  went  to  her 
own  room  as  every  one  did  at  that  time.  Little  as  she 
had  slept  that  night,  she  felt  that  it  would  be  intoler- 
able to  lie  down ;  so  she  took  her  little  basket  of  beads 
and  tried  to  work.  Nella  was  dozing  in  the  next  room. 
From  time  to  time  the  young  girl  leaned  back  in  her 
chair  with  half-closed  eyes,  and  a  look  of  pain  came 
over  her  face ;  then  with  an  effort  she  took  her  needle 
once  more,  and  picked  out  the  beads,  threading  them 
one  by  one  in  a  regular  succession  of  colours. 

She  was  sure  that  if  Zorzi  were  near  he  would  have 
already  found  some  means  of  informing  her  that  he 
was  really  in  safety.  He  must  have  friends  of  whom 
she  knew  nothing,  and  who  had  rescued  him  at  great 
risk.  He  would  surely  trust  one  of  them  to  take  a 
message,  or  to  make  a  signal  which  she  could  under- 
stand. She  sat  near  the  window,  and  the  shutters  were 
half  closed  so  as  to  leave  a  space  through  which  she 
could  look  out.  From  time  to  time  she  glanced  at  the 
white  line  of  the  footway  opposite,  over  which  the 
shadow  of  the  glass-house  was  beginning  to  creep  as 
the  sun  moved  westward.  But  no  one  appeared. 
When  it  was  cool  Pasquale  would  probably  come  out 
and  look  three  times  up  and  down  the  canal  as  he 
always  did.  Giovanni  would  not  go  to  the  laboratory 


366  MARIETTA 

again.  Perhaps  her  father  would  go,  when  he  was 
rested.  Then,  if  she  chose,  she  could  take  Nella  and 
join  him,  and  since  there  was  to  be  an  explanation  with 
him,  she  would  rather  have  it  in  the  laboratory,  where 
they  would  be  quite  alone. 

She  had  fully  made  up  her  mind  to  tell  him  at  the 
very  first  interview  that  she  would  not  marry  Jacopo 
Contarini  under  any  circumstances,  but  she  had  not 
decided  whether  she  would  add  that  she  loved  Zorzi. 
She  hated  anything  like  cowardice,  and  it  would  be 
cowardly  to  put  off  telling  the  truth  any  longer  ;  but 
what  concerned  Zorzi  was  her  secret,  and  she  had  a 
right  to  choose  the  most  favourable  moment  for  making 
a  revelation  on  which  her  whole  life,  and  Zorzi's  also, 
must  immediately  depend.  She  felt  weak  and  tired, 
for  she  had  eaten  little  and  hardly  slept  at  all,  but  her 
determination  was  strong  and  she  would  act  upon  it. 

Occasionally  she  rose  and  moved  wearily  about  the 
room,  looked  out  between  the  shutters  and  then  sat 
down  again.  She  was  in  one  of  those  moments  of  life 
in  which  all  existence  seems  drawn  out  to  an  endless 
quivering  thread,  a  single  throbbing  nerve  stretched  to 
its  utmost  point  of  strain. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  a  man's  footstep  in  the 
passage,  coming  towards  her  door.  A  moment  later 
she  heard  her  father's  voice,  asking  if  he  might  come 
in.  Almost  at  the  same  time  she  opened  and  Beroviero 
stood  on  the  threshold.  Nella  had  heard  him  speaking, 
too,  and  she  started  up,  wide  awake  in  an  instant,  and 
came  in,  to  see  if  she  were  needed. 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  367 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  to  the  laboratory,  my  dear  ?  " 
asked  the  old  man  quietly. 

She  answered  gravely  that  she  would.  There  was 
no  gladness  in  her  tone,  but  no  reluctance.  She  was 
facing  the  most  difficult  situation  she  had  ever  known, 
and  perhaps  the  most  dangerous. 

"  Very  well,"  said  her  father.  "  Let  Nella  give  you 
your  silk  mantle  and  we  will  go  at  once." 

Before  Marietta  could  have  answered,  even  if  she 
had  known  what  to  say,  Nella  had  begun  her  tale  of 
woe.  The  mantle  was  stolen,  the  sour-faced  shrew  of 
a  maid  who  belonged  to  the  Signor  Giovanni's  wife 
had  stolen  it,  the  house  ought  to  be  searched  at  once, 
and  so  much  more  to  the  same  effect  that  Nella  was 
obliged  to  pause  for  breath. 

"  When  did  you  miss  it  ?  "  asked  Beroviero,  looking 
hard  at  the  serving-woman. 

"  This  morning,  sir.  It  was  here  last  night,  I  am 
quite  sure." 

The  truthful  little  brown  eyes  did  not  waver. 

"  And  it  cannot  have  been  any  one  else,"  continued 
Nella.  "  This  is  a  very  evil  person,  sir,  and  she  some- 
times comes  here  with  a  message,  or  making  believe 
that  she  is  helping  me.  As  if  I  needed  help,  indeed  !  " 

"  Do  not  accuse  people  of  stealing  when  you  have  no 
evidence  against  them,"  answered  Beroviero  somewhat 
sternly.  "  Give  your  mistress  something  else  to  throw 
over  her." 

"Give  me  the  green  silk  cloak,"  said  Marietta, 
who  was  anxious  not  to  be  questioned  about  the  mantle. 


S68  MARIETTA 

"  It  has  a  spot  in  one  corner,"  Nella  answered  dis- 
contentedly, as  she  went  to  the  wardrobe. 

The  spot  turned  out  to  be  no  bigger  than  the  head 
of  a  pin.  A  moment  later  Marietta  and  her  father 
were  going  downstairs.  At  the  door  of  the  glass- 
house Pasquale  eyed  them  with  approbation,  and 
Marietta  smiled  and  said  a  word  to  him  as  she  passed. 
It  seemed  strange  that  she  should  have  trusted  the 
ugly  old  man  with  a  secret  which  she  dared  not  tell 
her  own  father. 

Beroviero  did  not  speak  as  she  followed  him  down 
the  path  and  stood  waiting  while  he  unlocked  the 
door.  Then  they  both  entered,  and  he  laid  his  cap 
upon  the  table. 

"There  is  your  mantle,  my  dear,"  he  said  quietly, 
and  he  pointed  to  it,  neatly  folded  and  lying  on  the 
bench. 

Marietta  started,  for  she  was  taken  unawares.  While 
in  her  own  room,  her  father  had  spoken  so  naturally  as 
to  make  it  seem  quite  possible  that  Giovanni  had  said 
nothing  about  it  to  Lim,  yet  he  had  known  exactly 
where  it  was.  He  was  facing  her  now,  as  he  spoke. 

"  It  was  found  here  last  night,  after  Zorzi  had  been 
arrested,"  said  Beroviero.  "L>o  you  understand?" 

"  Ye  ,"  Marietta  answered,  gathering  all  her  courage. 
"  We  will  talk  about  it  by  and  by.  First,  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you  which  is  much  more  impor- 
tant than  anything  concerning  the  mantle.  Will  you 
sit  down,  father,  and  hear  me  as  patiently  as  you  can  ?  " 

"I   am   learning  patience   to-day,"  said   Beroviero, 


A   MAID  OP   VENICE  369 

sitting  down  in  his  chair.  "  I  am  learning  also  the 
meaning  of  such  words  as  ingratitude,  betrayal  and 
treachery,  which  were  never  before  spoken  in  my 
house." 

He  sighed  and  leaned  back,  looking  at  the  wall. 
Marietta  dropped  her  cloak  beside  the  mantle  on  the 
bench  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  before  him, 
trying  to  begin  her  speech.  But  she  could  not  find 
any  words. 

"Speak,  child,''  said  her  father.  "What  has  hap- 
pened? It  seems  to  me  that  I  could  bear  almost 
anything  now." 

She  stood  still  a  moment  before  him,  still  hesitating. 
She  now  saw  that  he  had  suffered  more  than  she 
had  suspected,  doubtless  owing  to  .Zorzi's  arrest  and 
disappearance,  and  she  knew  that  what  she  meant 
to  tell  him  would  hurt  him  mu  h  more. 

"  Father,"  she  began  at  last,  with  a  great  effort,  "  I 
know  that  what  I  am  going  to  say  will  displease  you 
very,  very  much.  I  am  sorry  —  I  wish  it  were  not  —  " 

Suddenly  her  set  speech  broke  down.  She  fell  on 
her  knees  and  took  his  hands,  looking  up  beseechingly 
to  his  face. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  she  cried.  Oh,  for  God's  sake 
forgive  me  !  I  cannot  marry  Jacopo  Contarini ! 

Beroviero  had  not  expected  that.  He  sat  upright 
in  the  chair,  in  his  amazement,  and  instinctively  tried 
to  draw  his  hands  out  of  hers,  but  she  held  them  fast, 
gazing  earnestly  up  to  him.  His  look  was  not  angry, 
nor  cold,  nor  did  he  even  seem  hurt.  He  was  simply 

2B 


370  MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF  VENICE 

astonished  beyond  all  measure  by  the  enormous  audac- 
ity of  what  she  said.  As  yet  he  did  not  connect  it  with 
anything  else. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  mad  !  " 

That  was  all  he  could  find  to  say. 


CHAPTER   XX 

MARIETTA  shook  her  head.  She  still  knelt  at  her 
father's  feet,  holding  his  hands. 

"I  am  not  mad,"  she  said.  "I  am  in  earnest.  I 
cannot  marry  him.  It  is  impossible." 

"  You  must  marry  him,"  answered  Beroviero.  "You 
are  betrothed  to  him,  and  it  would  be  an  insult  to  his 
family  to  break  off  the  marriage  now.  Besides,  you 
have  no  reason  to  give,  not  the  shadow  of  a  reason." 

Marietta  dropped  his  hands  and  rose  to  her  feet 
lightly.  She  had  expected  a  terrific  outburst  of  anger, 
which  would  gradually  subside,  after  which  she  hoped 
to  find  words  with  which  to  influence  him.  But  like 
many  hot-tempered  men,  he  was  sometimes  unex- 
pectedly calm  at  critical  moments,  as  if  he  were  really 
able  to  control  his  nature  when  he  chose.  She  now 
almost  wished  that  he  would  break  out  in  a  rage,  as 
women  sometimes  hope  we  may,  for  they  know  it  is  far 
easier  to  deal  with  an  angry  man  than  with  a  deter- 
mined one. 

"I  will  not  marry  him,"  she  said  at  last,  with  strong 
emphasis,  and  almost  defiantly. 

"My  child,"  Beroviero  answered  gravely,  "you  do 
not  know  what  you  are  saying." 

371 


372  MARIETTA 

"  I  do !  "  cried  Marietta  with  some  indignation, 
have  thought  of  it  a  long  time.  I  was  very  wrong  not 
to  make  up  my  mind  from  the  beginning,  and  I  ask 
your  forgiveness.  In  my  heart  I  always  knew  that  I 
could  not  do  it  in  the  end,  and  I  should  have  said  so 
at  once.  It  was  a  great  mistake." 

"There  is  no  question  of  your  consent,"  replied  Be- 
roviero  with  conviction.  "  If  girls  were  consulted  as 
to  the  men  they  were  to  marry,  the  world  would  soon 
come  to  an  end.  This  is  only  a  passing  madness,  of 
which  you  should  be  heartily  ashamed.  Say  no  more 
about  it.  On  the  appointed  day,  the  wedding  will  take 
place." 

"  It  will  not,"  said  Marietta  firmly  ;  "  and  you  will 
do  better  to  let  it  be  known  at  once.  It  is  .of  no  use 
to  take  heaven  to  witness,  and  to  make  a  solemn  oath. 
I  merely  say  that  I  will  not  marry  Jacopo  Contarini. 
You  may  carry  me  to  the  church,  you  may  drag  me 
before  the  altar,  but  I  will  resist.  I  will  scream  out 
that  I  will  not,  and  the  priest  himself  will  protect  me. 
That  will  be  a  much  greater  scandal  than  if  you  go  to 
the  Contarini  family  and  tell  them  that  your  daughter 
is  mad  —  if  you  really  think  I  am." 

"  You  are  undoubtedly  beside  yourself  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,"  Beroviero  answered.  "  But  it  will  pass^ 
I  hope." 

"  Not  while  I  am  alive,  and  I  shall  certainly  resist  to 
the  end.  It  would  be  much  wiser  of  you  to  send  me  to 
a  convent  at  once,  than  to  count  on  forcing  me  to  go 
through  the  marriage  ceremony." 


A  MAID   OP  VENICE  373 

Beroviero  stared  at  her,  and  stroked  his  beard.  He 
began  to  believe  that  she  might  possibly  be  in  earnest, 
since  she  talked  so  quietly  of  going  to  a  convent,  a 
fate  which  most  girls  considered  the  most  terrible  that 
could  be  imagined.  He  bent  his  brows  in  thought, 
but  watched  her  steadily. 

"  You  have  not  yet  given  me  a  single  reason  for  all 
this  wild  talk,"  he  said  after  a  pause.  "  It  is  absurd  to 
think  that  without  some  good  cause  you  are  suddenly 
filled  with  repulsion  for  marriage,  or  for  Jacopo  Con- 
tarini.  I  have  heard  of  young  women  who  were 
betrothed,  but  who  felt  a  religious  vocation,  and 
refused  to  marry  for  that  reason.  It  never  seemed  a 
very  satisfactory  one  to  me,  for  if  there  is  any  condi- 
tion in  which  a  woman  needs  religion,  it  is  the  mar- 
riage state." 

He  paused  in  his  speech,  pleased  with  his  own  idea, 
in  spite  of  all  his  troubles.  Marietta  had  moved  a  few 
steps  away  from  him  and  stood  beside  the  table,  look- 
ing down  at  the  things  on  it,  without  seeing  them. 

"  But  you  do  not  even  make  religion  a  pretext,"  pur- 
sued her  father.  "  Have  you  no  reason  to  give  ?  I  do 
not  expect  a  good  one,  for  none  can  have  any  weight. 
But  I  should  like  to  hear  the  best  you  have." 

"It  is  a  very  convincing  one  to  me,"  Marietta 
replied,  still  looking  down  at  the  table.  "  But  I  think 
I  had  better  not  tell  it  to  you  to-day,"  she  added.  "  It 
would  make  you  angry." 

"  No,"  said  Beroviero.  "  One  cannot  be  angry  with 
people  who  are  really  out  of  their  senses." 


374  MARIETTA 

"  I  am  not  so  mad  as  you  think,"  answered  the  girl. 
"  I  have  told  you  of  my  decision,  because  it  was  cow- 
ardly of  me  not  to  tell  you  what  I  felt  before  you  went 
away.  But  it  might  be  a  mistake  to  tell  you  more 
to-day.  You  have  had  enough  to  harass  you  already, 
since  you  came  back." 

"You  are  suddenly  very  considerate." 

"  No,  I  have  not  been  considerate.  I  could  not  be, 
without  acting  a  lie  to  you,  by  letting  you  believe  that 
I  meant  to  marry  Messer  Jacopo,  and  I  will  not  do 
that  any  longer,  since  I  know  that  it  is  a  lie.  But  I 
cannot  see  the  use  of  saying  anything  more." 

"You  had  better  tell  me  the  whole  truth,  rather 
than  let  me  think  something  that  may  be  much  worse,'* 
answered  Beroviero,  changing  his  attitude. 

"There  is  nothing  in  the  truth  of  which  I  am 
ashamed,"  said  Marietta,  holding  up  her  head  proudly. 
"I  have  done  nothing  which  I  did  not  believe  to  be 
right,  however  strange  it  may  seem  to  you." 

Once  more  their  eyes  met  and  they  gazed  steadily  at 
each  other;  and  again  the  blush  spread  over  her 
cheeks.  Beroviero  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  the 
folded  mantle. 

"  Marietta,"  he  said,  "  Zorzi  has  stolen  my  precious 
book  of  secrets,  and  has  disappeared  with  it.  They 
tell  me  that  he  also  stole  this  mantle,  for  it  was  found 
here  just  after  he  was  arrested  last  night.  Is  it  true, 
or  has  he  stolen  my  daughter  instead  ?  " 

Marietta's  face  had  darkened  when  he  began  to 
accuse  the  absent  man.  At  the  question  that  followed 
she  started  a  little,  and  drew  herself  up. 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  375 

"  Zorzi  is  neither  a  thief  nor  a  traitor,"  she  answered. 
"  If  you  mean  to  ask  me  whether  I  love  him  —  is  that 
what  you  mean  ?  "  She  paused,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  answered  her  father,  and  his  voice  shook. 

"  Then  yes  !  I  love  him  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  have 
loved  him  long.  That  is  why  I  will  not  marry  Jacopo 
Contarini.  You  know  my  secret  now." 

Beroviero  groaned  aloud,  and  his  head  sank  as  he 
grasped  the  arms  of  the  chair.  His  daughter  loved  the 
man  who  had  cheated  him,  betrayed  him  and  robbed 
him.  It  was  almost  too  much  to  bear.  He  had  noth- 
ing to  say,  for  no  words  could  tell  what  he  felt  then, 
and  he  silently  bowed  his  head. 

"  As  for  the  accusations  you  bring  against  him," 
Marietta  said  after  a  moment,  "  they  are  false,  from  first 
to  last,  and  I  can  prove  to  you  that  every  one  of  them 
is  an  abominable  lie." 

"You  cannot  make  that  untrue  which  I  have  seen 
with  my  eyes." 

"  I  can,  though  Zorzi  has  the  right  to  prove  his  inno- 
cence himself.  I  may  say  too  much,  for  I  am  not  as 
generous  as  he  is.  Do  you  know  that  when  they  tried 
to  kill  him  in  the  furnace  room,  and  lamed  him  for  life, 
he  told  every  one,  even  me,  that  it  was  an  accident  ? 
He  is  so  brave  and  noble  that  when  he  comes  here  again, 
he  will  not  tell  you  that  it  was  your  own  son  who  tried 
to  rob  you,  who  did  everything  in  his  power  to  get 
Zorzi  away  from  this  room,  in  order  to  search  for  your 
manuscript,  and  who  at  last,  as  everything  else  failed, 
persuaded  the  Governor  to  arrest  him.  He  will  not 


376  MARIETTA 

tell  you  that,  and  he  does  not  know  that  before  they 
had  taken  him  twenty  paces  from  the  door,  Giovanni 
was  already  here,  locked  in  and  trying  the  stones  with 
a  hammer  to  find  out  which  one  covered  the  precious' 
book.  Did  Giovanni  tell  you  that  this  morning  ?  No. 
Zorzi  would  not  tell  you  all  the  truth,  and  I  know 
some  of  it  even  better  than  he.  But  Zorzi  was  always 
generous  and  brave." 

Beroviero  had  lifted  his  head  now  and  was  looking 
hard  at  her. 

"  And  your  mantle  ?     How  came  it  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  now,  but  to  speak  the 
truth. 

"  It  is  here,"  said  Marietta,  growing  paler,  "  because 
I  came  here,  unknown  to  any  one  except  Pasquale  who 
let  me  in,  because  I  came  alone  last  night  to  warn  the 
man  I  love  that  Giovanni  had  planned  his  destruction, 
and  to  save  him  if  I  could.  In  my  haste  I  left  the 
mantle  in  that  chair  of  yours,  in  which  I  had  been  sit- 
ting. It  slipped  from  my  shoulders  as  I  sat,  and  there 
Giovanni  must  have  found  it.  If  you  had  seen  it  there 
you  would  know  that  what  I  say  is  true." 

"  I  did  see  it,"  said  Beroviero.  "  Giovanni  left  it 
where  it  was,  and  I  folded  it  myself  this  morning. 
Zorzi  did  not  steal  the  mantle.  I  take  back  that 
accusation." 

"  Nor  has  he  stolen  your  secrets.  Take  that  back, 
too,  if  you  are  just.  You  always  were,  till  now." 

"  I  have  searched  the  place  where  he  and  I  put  the 
book,  and  it  is  not  there." 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  377 

"Giovanni  searched  it  twelve  hours  earlier,  and  it 
was  already  gone.  Zorzi  saved  it  from  your  son,  and 
then,  in  his  rage,  I  cuppose  that  Giovanni  accused  him 
of  stealing  it.  He  may  even  have  believed  it,  for  I  can 
be  just,  too.  But  it  is  not  true.  The  book  is  safe." 

"  Zorzi  took  it  with  him,"  said  Beroviero. 

"  You  are  mistaken.  Before  he  was  arrested,  he  said 
that  I  ought  to  know  wfrere  it  was,  in  case  anything 
happened  to  him,  in  order  to  tell  you." 

Beroviero  rose  slowly,  staring  at  her,  and  speaking 
with  an  effort. 

"You  know  where  it  is?  He  told  you?  He  has 
not  taken  it  away  ?  " 

Marietta  smiled,  in  perfect  certainty  of  victory. 

"  I  know  where  it  is,"  she  said. 

"Where  is  it?"  he  asked  in  extreme  anxiety,  for  he 
could  hardly  believe  what  he  heard. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  yet,"  was  the  unexpected  answer 
Marietta  gave  him.  "  And  you  cannot  possibly  find  it 
unless  I  do." 

The  veins  stood  out  on  the  old  man's  temples  in  an 
instant,  and  the  old  angry  fire  came  back  to  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  dare  to  tell  me  that  you  will  not  show  me 
the  place  where  the  book  is,  on  the  very  instant?"  he 
cried. 

"Oh  yes,"  answered  Marietta.  "I  dare  that,  and 
much  more.  I  am  not  a  coward  like  my  brother,  you 
know.  I  will  not  tell  you  the  secret  till  you  promise 
me  something." 

"  You  are  trying  to  sell  me  what  is  my  own  !  '  he 


378  MARIETTA 

answered  angrily.  "  You  are  in  league  with  Zorzi 
against  me,  to  break  off  your  marriage.  But  I  will 
not  do  it  —  you  shall  tell  me  where  the  book  is  —  if 
you  refuse,  you  shall  repent  it  as  long  as  you  live  —  1 
will—" 

He  stopped  short  in  his  speech  as  he  met  her  dis- 
dainful look. 

"  You  never  threatened  me  before,"  she  said.  "  Why 
do  you  think  that  you  can  frighten  me  ?  " 

"  Give  me  what  is  mine,"  said  the  old  man  angrily. 
"That  is  all  I  demand.  I  am  not  threatening." 

"  Set  me  free  from  Messer  Jacopo,  and  you  shall 
have  it,"  answered  Marietta. 

"  No.     You  shall  marry  him." 

"  I  will  not.  But  I  will  keep  your  book  until  you 
change  your  mind,  or  else  —  but  no  I  If  I  gave  it  to 
Zorzi,  he  is  so  honourable  that  he  would  bring  it  back 
to  you  without  so  much  as  looking  into  it.  I  will  keep 
it  for  m}-self.  Or  I  will  burn  it !  " 

She  felt  that  if  she  had  been  a  man,  she  could  not 
have  taken  such  an  unfair  advantage  of  him  ;  but  she 
was  a  defenceless  girl,  fighting  for  the  liberty  of  her 
whole  life.  That  might  excuse  much,  she  thought. 
By  this  time  Beroviero  was  very  angry  ;  he  stalked 
up  and  down  beside  the  furnace,  trailing  his  thin  silk 
gown  behind  him,  stroking  his  beard  with  a  quick, 
impatient  movement,  and  casting  fierce  glances  at 
Marietta  from  time  to  time. 

He  was  not  used  to  being  at  the  mercy  of  circum- 
stances, still  less  to  having  his  mind  made  up  for  him 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  379 

by  his  son  and  his  daughter.  Giovanni  had  made  him 
believe  that  Zorzi  had  turned  traitor  and  thief,  after 
five  years  of  faithful  service,  and  the  conviction  had  cut 
him  to  the  quick  ;  and  now  Marietta  had  demonstrated 
Zorzi's  innocence  almost  beyond  doubt,  but  had  made 
matters  worse  in  other  ways,  and  was  taking  the  high 
hand  with  him.  He  did  not  realise  that  from  the 
moment  when  she  had  boldly  confessed  what  she  had 
done  and  had  declared  her  love  for  Zorzi,  his  confidence 
in  her  had  returned  by  quick  degrees,  and  that  the 
atrocious  crime  of  having  come  secretly  at  night  to  the 
laboratory  had  become  in  his  eyes,  and  perhaps  against 
his  will,  a  mere  pardonable  piece  of  rashness ;  since  if 
Zorzi  was  innocent,  anything  which  could  save  him 
from  unjust  imprisonment  might  well  be  forgiven.  He 
had  borne  what  seemed  to  him  very  great  misfortunes 
with  fortitude  and  dignity  ;  but  his  greatest  treasures 
were  safe,  his  daughter  and  Paolo  Godi's  manuscript, 
and  he  became  furiously  angry  with  Marietta,  because 
she  had  him  in  her  power. 

If  a  man  is  seated,  a  woman  who  intends  to  get  the 
better  of  him  generally  stands ;  but  if  he  loses  his  tem- 
per and  begins  to  walk  about,  she  immediately  seats 
herself  and  assumes  an  exasperating  calmness  of  man- 
ner. Accordingly  Marietta  sat  down  on  a  small  chair 
near  the  table  and  watched  her  father  in  silence,  per- 
suaded that  he  would  be  obliged  to  yield  in  the  end. 

"  No  one  has  ever  dared  to  browbeat  me  in  this  way, 
in  my  whole  life  1 "  cried  the  old  man  fiercely,  and  his 
voice  shook  with  rage. 


380  MARIETTA 

"  Will  you  listen  to  me  ?  "  asked  Marietta  with  sud- 
den meekness. 

"Listen  to  you?"  he  repeated  instantly.  "Havel 
not  been  listening  to  you  for  hours  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know  how  long  it  may  have  been,"  an- 
swered the  girl,  "  but  I  have  much  more  to  say.  You 
are  so  angry  that  you  will  not  hear  me." 

"  Angry  ?  I  ?  Are  you  telling  me  that  I  am  so 
beside  myself  with  rage,  that  I  cannot  understand 
reason  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  that." 

"  You  meant  it,  then  !  What  did  you  say  ?  You 
have  forgotten  what  you  said  already  !  Just  like  a 
girl  !  And  you  pretend  to  argue  with  me,  with  your 
own  father !  It  is  beyond  belief !  Silence,  I  say ! 
Do  not  answer  me  !  " 

Marietta  sat  quite  still,  and  began  to  look  at  her  nails, 
which  were  very  pink  and  well  shaped.  After  a  short 
silence  Beroviero  stopped  before  her. 

"Well!"  he  cried.  "Why  do  you  not  speak?" 
His  eyes  blazed  and  he  tapped  the  pavement  with  his 
foot.  She  raised  her  eyebrows,  smiled  a  little  wearily 
and  sighed. 

"  I  misunderstood  you,"  she  said,  with  exasperating 
patience.  "I  thought  you  told  me  to  be  silent." 

"You  always  misunderstand  me,'*  he  answered  an- 
grily and  walking  off  again.  "  You  always  did,  and  you 
always  will !  I  believe  you  do  it  on  purpose.  But  I 
will  make  you  understand  I  You  shall  know  what  I 
mean  ! " 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  381 

"I  should  be  so  glad,"  said  Marietta.  "Pray  tell 
me  what  you  mean." 

This  was  too  much.     He  turned  sharply  in  his  walk. 

"  I  mean  you  to  marry  Contarini,"  he  cried  out,  with 
a  stamp  of  the  foot. 

"And  you  mean  never  to  see  Paolo  Godi's  manu- 
script again,"  suggested  Marietta  quietly. 

"  Perdition  take  the  accursed  thing !  "  roared  the  old 
man.  "  If  I  only  knew  where  you  have  put  it  —  " 

"  It  is  where  you  can  never,  never  find  it,"  Marietta 
answered.  "  So  it  is  of  no  use  to  be  angry  with  me,  is 
it?  The  more  angry  you  are,  the  less  likely  it  is  that 
I  shall  tell  you.  But  I  will  tell  you  something  else, 
father  —  something  you  never  understood  before.  My 
marriage  was  to  have  been  a  bargain,  a  great  name  for 
a  fortune,  half  your  fortune  for  a  great  name  and  an 
alliance  with  the  Contarini.  Perhaps  one  was  worth 
the  other.  I  know  very  little  of  such  things.  But  it 
chances  that  I  can  have  a  word  to  say  about  the  bar- 
gain, too.  Would  any  one  say  that  I  was  doing  very 
wrong  if  I  gave  that  book  to  my  brother,  for  instance? 
Giovanni  would  not  give  it  back  to  you,  as  Zorzi  would, 
I  am  quite  sure." 

"What  abominable  scheme  is  this?"  Beroviero 
fairly  trembled  in  his  fury. 

"I  offer  you  a  simple  bargain,"  Marietta  answered, 
unmoved.  "I  will  give  you  your  manuscript  for  my 
freedom.  Will  you  take  it,  father?  Or  will  you  insist 
upon  trying  to  marry  me  by  force,  and  let  me  give  the 
book  to  Giovanni?  Yes,  that  is  what  I  will  do.  Then 
I  will  marry  Zorzi,  and  go  away." 


382  MARIETTA 

"  Silence,  child !  You !  Marry  a  stranger,  a  Dalraa^ 
tian — a  servant !  " 

"But  I  love  him.  You  may  call  him  a  servant,  if 
you  choose.  It  would  make  no  difference  to  me  if  it 
were  true.  He  would  not  be  less  brave,  less  loyal  or 
less  worthy  if  he  were  forced  to  clean  your  shoes 
in  order  to  live,  instead  of  sharing  your  art  with  you. 
Did  he  ever  lie  to  you?" 

"  No  !  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  I  would  have  broken 
his  bones  1  " 

"  Did  he  ever  betray  a  secret,  since  you  know  that 
the  book  is  safe?" 

"No." 

"  Have  you  trusted  him  far  more  than  your  own  sons, 
for  many  years  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  of  course  —  " 

"Then  call  him  your  servant  if  you  like,  and  call 
your  sons  what  you  please,"  concluded  Marietta,  "but 
do  not  tell  me  that  such  a  man  is  not  good  enough  to 
be  the  husband  of  a  glass-blower's  daughter,  who  does 
not  want  a  great  name,  nor  a  palace,  nor  a  husband 
who  sits  in  the  Grand  Council.  Do  not  say  that, 
father,  for  it  would  not  be  true  —  and  you  never  told 
a  lie  in  your  life." 

"  I  tell  you  that  marriage  has  nothing  to  do  with  all 
this  !  "  He  began  walking  again,  to  keep  his  temper 
hot,  for  he  was  dimly  conscious  that  he  was  getting 
the  worst  of  the  encounter,  and  that  her  arguments 
were  good. 

"  And  I  tell  you  that  a  marriage  that  has  nothing  to 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE 

do  with  love,  and  with  honour,  and  with  trust,  is  no 
marriage  at  all !  "  answered  the  girl.  "  Say  what  you 
please  of  customs,  and  traditions,  and  of  station,  and 
all  that !  God  never  meant  that  an  innocent  girl 
should  be  bought  and  sold  like  a  slave,  or  a  horse,  for 
a  name,  nor  for  money,  nor  for  any  imaginary  advan- 
tage to  herself  or  to  her  father !  I  know  what  our 
privilege  is,  that  the  patricians  may  marry  us  and  not 
lose  their  rank.  I  would  rather  keep  my  own,  and 
marry  a  glass-worker,  even  if  I  were  to  be  sold  I  Do 
you  know  what  your  money  would  buy  for  me  in 
Venice  ?  The  privilege  of  being  despised  and  slighted 
by  patricians  and  great  ladies.  You  know  as  well  as 
I  that  it  would  all  end  there,  in  spite  of  all  you  may 
give.  They  want  your  money,  you  want  their  name, 
because  you  are  rich  and  you  have  always  been  taught 
to  think  that  the  chief  use  of  money  is  to  rise  in  the 
world." 

"  Will  you  teach  me  what  I  am  to  think  ? "  asked 
old  Beroviero,  amazed  by  her  sudden  flow  of  words. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  before  he  could  say  more.  "  I 
will  teach  you  what  you  should  think,  what  you  should 
have  always  thought  —  a  man  as  brave  and  upright 
and  honest  in  everything  as  you  are !  You  should 
think,  you  should  know,  that  your  daughter  has  a  right 
to  live,  a  right  to  be  free,  and  a  right  to  love,  like  every 
living  creature  God  ever  made  !  " 

"  This  is  the  most  abominable  rebellion  !  "  retorted 
Beroviero.  "  I  cannot  imagine  where  you  learned  - 

"  Rebellion  ?  "  she  cried,  interrupting  him  in  ringing 


384  MARIETTA 

tones.  "  Yes,  it  is  rank  rebellion,  sedition  and  revolt 
against  slavery,  for  life  and  love  and  freedom  !  You 
wonder  where  I  have  learned  to  turn  and  face  this 
oppression  of  the  world,  instead  of  yielding  to  it,  one 
more  unhappy  woman  among  the  thousands  that  are 
bought  and  sold  into  wifehood  every  year  !  I  have 
learned  nothing,  my  heart  needed  no  teaching  for 
that  !  It  is  enough  that  I  love  an  honest  man  truly 
- —  1  know  that  it  is  wrong  to  promise  my  faith  to 
another,  and  that  it  is  a  worse  wrong  in  you  to  try  to 
get  that  promise  from  me  by  force.  A  vow  that  could 
be  nothing  but  a  solemn  lie  !  Would  the  ring  on  my 
finger  be  a  charm  to  make  me  forget?  Would  the 
priest's  words  and  blessing  be  a  spell  to  root  out  of  my 
heart  what  is  the  best  part  of  my  life  ?  Better  go  to 
a  nunnery,  and  weep  for  the  truth,  than  to  hope  for 
peace  in  such  a  lie  as  that  —  better  a  thousand,  thou- 
sand times  ! " 

She  had  risen  now,  and  was  almost  eloquent,  facing 
her  father  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  have  always  been  kind  to  me,  good  to  me, 
dear  to  me,"  she  went  on  quickly.  "  It  is  only  in  this 
that  you  will  not  understand.  Would  it  not  hurt  you 
a  little  to  feel  that  you  had  sent  me  to  a  sort  of  living 
death  from  which  I  could  never  come  back  to  life  ? 
That  I  was  imprisoned  for  ever  among  people  who 
looked  down  upon  me  and  only  tolerated  me  for  my 
fortune's  sake  ?  Yet  that  would  be  the  very  least  part 
of  it  all !  I  could  bear  all  that,  if  it  were  for  any 
good.  But  to  become  the  creature,  the  possession,  the 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  385 

plaything  of  a  man  I  do  not  love,  when  I  love  another 
with  all  my  heart  —  oh,  no,  no,  no  1  You  cannot  ask 
me  that  !  " 

His  anger  had  slowly  subsided,  and  he  was  listening 
now,  not  because  she  had  him  in  her  power,  but  be- 
cause what  she  said  was  true.  For  he  was  a  just  and 
honourable  man. 

"I  wish  that  you  might  have  loved  any  man  but 
Zorzi,"  he  said,  almost  as  if  speaking  to  himself. 

"And  why  another?"  she  asked,  following  up  her 
advantage  instantly.  "  You  would  have  had  me  marry 
a  Trevisan,  perhaps,  or  the  son  of  any  of  the  other 
great  glass-makers  ?  Is  there  one  of  them  who  can 
compare  with  Zorzi  as  an  artist,  let  alone  as  a  man  ? 
Look  at  those  things  he  has  made,  there,  on  the  table  I 
Is  there  a  man  living  who  could  make  one  of  them? 
Not  you,  yourself ;  you  know  it  better  than  I  do ! " 

"  No,"  answered  Beroviero.  "  That  is  true.  Nor 
is  there  any  one  who  could  make  the  glass  he  used 
for  them  without  the  secrets  that  are  in  the  book  — 
and  more  too,  for  it  is  better  than  my  own." 

Marietta  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  This  was  some- 
thing she  had  not  known. 

"  Is  it  not  your  glass  ?  "  she  asked. 

"It  is  better.  He  must  have  added  something  to 
the  composition  set  down  in  the  book." 

"  You  believe  that  although  the  book  itself  is  safe, 
he  has  made  use  of  it." 

"Yes.     I  cannot  see  how  it  could  be  otherwise." 

"Was  the  book  sealed?" 

2o 


586  MARIETTA 

"  Yes,  and  locked  in  an  iron  box.  Here  is  the  key. 
f  always  wear  it." 

He  drew  out  the  small  iron  key,  and  showed  it  to 
her. 

"  If  you  find  the  box  locked,  and  the  seals  untouched, 
will  you  believe  that  Zorzi  has  not  opened  the  manu- 
script ? "  asked  Marietta. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Beroviero  after  a  moment's  thought. 
**  I  showed  him  the  seal,  and  I  remember  that  he  said 
a  man  might  make  one  like  it.  But  I  should  know 
by  the  wax.  I  am  sure  I  could  tell  whether  it  had 
been  tampered  with.  Yes,  I  should  believe  he  had 
not  opened  the  book,  if  I  found  it  as  I  left  it." 

"Then  you  will  be  convinced  that  Zorzi  is  alto- 
gether innocent  of  all  the  charges  Giovanni  made 
against  him.  Is  that  true  ?  " 

"  Yes.  If  he  has  learnt  the  art  in  spite  of  the  law, 
that  is  my  fault,  not  his.  He  was  unwise  in  selling 
the  beaker  to  Giovanni.  But  what  is  that,  after  all  ?  " 

"  Promise  me  then,"  said  Marietta,  laying  her  hand 
upon  her  father's  arm,  "  promise  me  that  if  Zorzi 
comes  back,  he  shall  be  safe,  and  that  you  will  trust 
him  as  you  always  have." 

"Though  he  dares  to  be  in  love  with  you?" 

"  Though  I  dare  to  love  him  —  or  apart  from  that. 
Say  that  if  it  were  not  for  that,  you  would  treat  him 
just  as  before  you  went  away." 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  answered   Beroviero  thoughtfully. 

"  The  book  is  there,"  said  Marietta. 

She  pointed  to  the  big  earthen  jar  that  contained 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  387 

the  broken  glass,  and  her  father's  eyes  followed  her 
hand. 

"  It  is  for  Zorzi's  sake  that  I  tell  you,"  she  continued. 
"The  book  is  buried  deep  down  amongst  the  broken 
bits.  It  will  take  a  long  time  to  get  it  out.  Shall  I 
call  Pasquale  to  help  us  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  her  father. 

He  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  and  brought 
back  the  crowbar.  Then  he  placed  himself  in  a  good 
position  for  striking,  and  raised  the  iron  high  in  air 
with  both  his  hands. 

"  Stand  back  I  "  he  cried  as  Marietta  came  nearer. 

The  first  blow  knocked  a  large  piece  of  earthenware 
from  the  side  of  the  strong  jar,  and  a  quantity  of  broken 
red  glass  poured  out,  as  red  as  blood  from  a  wound,  and 
fell  with  little  crashes  upon  the  stone  floor.  Beroviero 
raised  the  crowbar  again  and  again  and  brought  it  down 
with  all  his  might.  At  the  fourth  stroke  the  whole 
jar  went  to  pieces,  leaving  nothing  but  a  red  heap  of 
smashed  glass,  round  about  which  lay  the  big  frag- 
ments of  the  jar.  In  the  middle  of  the  heap,  the 
corner  of  the  iron  box  appeared,  sticking  up  like  a 
black  stone. 

"  At  last  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man,  flushed  with 
satisfaction.  "Giovanni  had  not  thought  of  this." 

He  cleared  away  the  shivers  and  gently  pushed  the 
box  out  of  its  bed  with  the  crowbar.  He  soon  got  it 
out  on  the  floor,  and  with  some  precaution,  lest  any  stray 
splinter  should  cut  his  fingers,  he  set  it  upon  the  table. 
Then  he  took  the  key  from  his  neck  and  opened  it. 


S88  MARIETTA 

Marietta's  belief  in  Zorzi  had  never  wavered,  from 
the  first,  but  Beroviero  was  more  than  half  sure  that 
the  book  had  been  opened.  He  took  it  up  with  care, 
turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  hands,  scrutinised  the 
seal,  the  strings,  the  knots,  and  saw  that  they  were  all 
his  own. 

"  It  is  impossible  that  this  should  have  been  undone 
and  tied  up  again,"  he  said  confidently. 

"  Any  one  could  see  that  at  once,"  Marietta  answered. 
"  Do  you  believe  that  Zorzi  is  innocent  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  help  believing.  But  I  do  not  understand. 
There  is  the  red  glass,  made  by  dropping  the  piece  of 
copper  into  it.  That  is  in  the  book,  I  am  sure." 

"  It  was  an  accident,"  said  Marietta.  "  The  copper 
ladle  fell  into  the  glass.  Zorzi  told  me  about  it." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  That  is  possible.  The  very  same 
thing  happened  to  Paolo  Godi,  and  that  was  how  he 
discovered  the  colour.  But  there  is  the  white  glass, 
which  is  so  like  mine,  though  it  is  better.  That  may 
have  been  an  accident  too.  Or  the  boy  may  have  tried 
an  experiment  upon  mine  by  adding  something  to  it." 

"It  is  at  least  sure  that  the  book  has  not  been 
touched,  and  that  is  the  main  thing.  You  admit  that 
he  is  quite  innocent,  do  you  not  ?  Quite,  quite  inno- 
cent ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  It  would  be  very  unjust  not  to  admit 
it." 

Marietta  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  for  she  had 
scarcely  hoped  to  accomplish  so  much  in  so  short  a 
time.  The  rest  would  follow,  she  felt  sure. 


A  MAID    OF    VENICE  389 

"I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  see  Zorzi  at  once," 
said  her  father,  at  last,  as  he  replaced  the  manuscript 
in  the  box  and  shut  the  lid. 

"  Not  half  as  much  as  I  would  !  "  Marietta  almost 
laughed,  as  she  spoke.  "  Father,"  she  added  gently, 
and  resting  one  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  "  I  have  given 
you  back  your  book,  I  have  given  you  back  the  inno. 
cent  man  you  trusted,  instead  of  the  villain  invented 
by  my  brother.  What  will  you  give  me  ?  " 

She  smiled  and  rubbed  her  cheek  against  his  shoulder. 
He  shook  his  head  a  little,  and  would  not  answer. 

"  Would  it  be  so  hard  to  say  that  you  ask  another 
year's  time  before  the  marriage  ?  And  then,  you  know, 
you  could  ask  it  again,  and  they  would  soon  be  tired 
of  waiting  and  would  break  it  off  themselves." 

"Do  not  suggest  such  woman's  tricks  to  me,"  an- 
swered  her  father  ;  but  he  could  not  help  smiling. 

"  Oh,  you  may  find  a  better  way,"  Marietta  said. 
"  But  that  would  be  so  easy,  would  it  not  ?  Your 
daughter  is  so  young  —  her  health  is  somewhat  deli- 
cate —  " 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
Pasquale  entered. 

"  The  Signer  Giovanni  is  without,  sir,"  said  the 
porter.  "  He  desires  to  take  leave  of  you,  as  he  is 
returning  to  his  own  house  to-day." 

"  Let  him  come  in,"  said  Beroviero,  his  face  darken- 
ing all  at  once. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

GIOVANNI  entered  the  laboratory  confidently,  not 
even  knowing  that  Marietta  was  with  her  father,  and 
not  suspecting  that  he  could  have  anything  to  fear 
from  her. 

"  I  have  come  to  take  my  leave  of  you,  sir,"  he  began, 
going  towards  his  father  at  once. 

He  did  not  see  the  broken  jar,  which  was  at  some 
distance  from  the  door. 

"Before  you  go,"  said  Beroviero  coldly,  "pray  look 
at  this." 

Giovanni  saw  the  box  on  the  table,  but  did  not 
understand,  as  he  had  never  seen  it  before.  His 
father  again  took  the  key  from  his  neck  and  opened 
the  casket. 

"  This  is  Paolo  Godi's  manuscript,"  he  said,  without 
changing  his  tone.  "  You  see,  here  is  the  book.  The 
seal  is  unbroken.  It  is  exactly  as  I  left  it  when  Zorzi 
and  I  buried  it  together.  You  suspected  him  of  having 
opened  it,  and  I  confess  that  you  made  me  suspect  him, 
too.  For  the  sake  of  justice,  convince  yourself." 

Giovanni's  face  was  drawn  with  lines  of  vexation 
and  anxiety. 

"  It  was  hidden  in  the  jar  of  broken  glass,"  Beroviero 
explained.  "You  did  not  think  of  looking  there." 

390 


MARIETTA,    A  MAID   OF   VENICE  391 

"  No  —  nor  you,  sir." 

"I  mean  that  you  did  not  look  there  when  you 
searched  for  it  alone,  immediately  after  Zorzi  was 
arrested." 

Giovanni  was  pale  now,  but  he  raised  both  hands 
and  turned  up  his  eyes  as  if  calling  upon  heaven  to 
witness  his  innocence. 

"  I  swear  to  you,"  he  began,  "  on  the  body  of  the 
blessed  Saint  Donatus  —  " 

Beroviero  interrupted  him. 

"  I  did  not  ask  you  to  swear  by  anything,"  he  said. 
"  I  know  the  truth.  The  less  you  say  of  what  has  hap- 
pened, the  better  it  will  be  for  you  in  the  end." 

"  I  suppose  my  sister  has  been  poisoning  your  mind 
against  me  as  usual.  Can  she  explain  how  her  mantle 
came  here  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  concern  you  to  know  how  it  came  here," 
answered  Beroviero.  "By  your  wholly  unjustifiable 
haste,  to  say  nothing  worse,  you  have  caused  an  inno- 
cent man  to  be  arrested,  and  his  rescue  and  disappear- 
ance have  made  matters  much  worse.  I  do  not  care 
to  ask  what  your  object  has  been.  Keep  it  to  yourself, 
pray,  and  do  not  remind  me  of  this*  affair  when  we 
meet,  for  after  all,  you  are  my  son.  You  came  to  take 
your  leave,  I  think.  Go  home,  then,  by  all  means." 

Without  a  word,  Giovanni  went  out,  biting  his  thin 
lip  and  reflecting  mournfully  upon  the  change  in  his 
position  since  he  had  talked  with  his  father  in  the 
morning.  While  they  had  been  speaking  Marietta 
had  gone  to  a  little  distance,  affecting  to  unfold  the 


392  MARIETTA 

mantle  and  fold  it  again  according  to  feminine  rules. 
As  she  heard  the  door  shut  again  she  glanced  at  her 
father's  face,  and  saw  that  he  was  looking  at  her. 

"I  told  you  that  I  was  learning  patience  to-day," 
he  said.  "I  longed  to  lay  my  hands  on  him." 

"  You  frightened  him  much  more  by  what  you  said," 
answered  Marietta. 

"  Perhaps.  Never  mind  !  He  is  gone.  The  ques- 
tion is  how  to  find  Zorzi.  That  is  the  first  thing,  and 
then  we  must  undo  the  mischief  Giovanni  has  done." 

"  I  think  Pasquale  must  have  some  clue  by  which  we 
may  find  Zorzi,"  suggested  Marietta. 

Pasquale  was  called  at  once.  He  stood  with  his  legs 
bowed,  holding  his  old  cap  in  both  hands,  his  small 
bloodshot  eyes  fixed  on  his  master's  face  with  a  look  of 
inquiry.  He  was  more  than  ever  like  a  savage  old 
watch-dog. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said  in  answer  to  Beroviero's  question, 
"  I  can  tell  you  something.  Two  men  were  looking  on 
last  night  when  the  Signor  Giovanni  made  me  open  the 
door  to  the  Governor's  soldiers.  They  wore  hoods 
over  their  eyes,  but  I  am  certain  that  one  of  them  was 
that  Greek  captain  who  came  here  one  morning  before 
you  went  away.  When  Zorzi  came  out,  the  Greek 
walked  off,  up  the  footway  and  past  the  bridge.  The 
other  waited  till  they  were  all  gone  and  till  Signor 
Giovanni  had  come  in.  He  whispered  quickly  in  my 
ear,  'Zorzi  is  safe.'  Then  he  went  after  the  others. 
I  could  see  that  he  had  a  short  staff  hidden  under  his 
cloak,  and  that  he  was  a  man  with  bones  like  an  ox. 


A   MAID   OF  VENICE  393 

But  he  was  not  so  big  a  man  as  the  captain.  Then  I 
knew  that  two  such  men,  who  were  seamen  accustomed 
to  using  their  hands,  quick  on  their  feet  and  seeing 
well  in  the  dark,  as  we  all  do,  could  pitch  the  officer 
over  the  tower  of  San  Piero,  if  they  chose,  with  all  his 
sleazy  crew  of  lubberly,  dressed-up  boobies,  armed  with 
overgrown  boat-hooks.  This  I  thought,  and  so  it  hap- 
pened. That  is  what  I  know." 

"But  why  should  Captain  Aristarchi  care  whether 
Zorzi  were  arrested  or  not  ?  "  asked  Beroviero. 

"  This  the  saints  may  know  in  paradise,"  answered 
Pasquale,  "but  not  I." 

"Has  the  captain  been  here  again?  "  asked  Beroviero, 
completely  puzzled. 

"  No,  sir.  But  I  should  have  told  you  that  one  morn- 
ing there  came  a  patrician  of  Venice,  Messer  Zuan 
Venier,  who  wished  to  see  you,  being  a  friend  of 
Messer  Jacopo  Contarini,  and  when  he  heard  that  you 
were  away  he  desired  to  see  Zorzi,  and  stayed  some 
time." 

"  I  know  him  by  name,"  said  Beroviero,  nodding. 
"  But  there  can  be  no  connection  between  him  and 
this  Greek." 

Pasquale  snarled  and  showed  his  teeth  at  the  mere 
idea,  for  his  instinct  told  him  that  Aristarchi  was  a 
pirate,  or  had  been  one,  and  he  was  by  no  means  sure 
that  the  Greek  had  carried  off  Zorzi  for  any  good 
purpose. 

"Pasquale,"  said  Beroviero,  "it  is  long  since  you 
have  had  a  holiday.  Take  the  skiff  to-morrow  morn- 


394  MARIETTA 

ing,  and  go  over  to  Venice.  You  are  a  seaman  and  you 
can  easily  find  out  from  the  sailors  about  the  Giudecca 
who  this  Aristarchi  really  is,  and  where  he  lives.  Then 
try  to  see  him  and  tell  him  that  Zorzi  is  innocent  of  all 
the  charges  against  him,  and  that  if  he  will  come  back 
I  will  protect  him.  Can  you  do  that  ?  " 

Pasquale  gave  signs  of  great  satisfaction,  by  growl- 
ing and  grinning  at  the  same  time,  and  his  lids  drew 
themselves  into  a  hundred  wrinkles  till  his  eyes  seemed 
no  bigger  than  two  red  Murano  beads. 

Then  Beroviero  and  Marietta  went  back  to  ohe 
house,  and  the  young  girl  carried  the  folded  mantle 
under  her  cloak.  Before  going  to  her  own  room  she 
opened  it  out,  as  if  it  had  been  worn,  and  dropped  it 
behind  a  bench-box  in  the  large  room,  as  if  it  had 
fallen  from  her  shoulders  while  she  had  been  sitting 
there  ;  and  in  due  time  it  was  found  by  one  of  the 
men-servants,  who  brought  it  back  to  Nella. 

"  You  are  so  careless,  my  pretty  lady  I "  cried  the 
serving- woman,  holding  up  her  hands. 

"Yes,"  answered  Marietta,  "I  know  it." 

"  So  careless  !  "  repeated  Nella.  "  Nothing  has  any 
value  for  you  !  Some  day  you  will  forget  your  face  in 
the  mirror  and  go  away  without  it,  and  then  they  will 
say  it  is  Nella's  fault !  " 

Marietta  laughed  lightly,  for  she  was  happy.  It  was 
clear  that  everything  was  to  end  well,  though  it  might 
be  long  before  her  father  would  consent  to  let  her 
marry  Zorzi.  She  felt  quite  sure  that  he  was  safe, 
though  he  might  be  far  away  by  this  time. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  395 

Beroviero  returned  at  once  to  the  Governor's  house, 
and  did  his  best  to  undo  the  mischief.  But  to  his  un- 
speakable disappointment  he  found  that  the  Governor's 
report  had  already  gone  to  the  Council  of  Ten,  so  that 
the  matter  had  passed  altogether  out  of  his  hands. 
The  Council  would  certainly  find  Zorzi,  if  he  were  in 
Venice,  and  within  two  or  three  days,  at  the  utmost, 
if  not  within  a  few  hours ;  for  the  Signers  of  the  Night 
were  very  vigilant  and  their  men  knew  every  hiding- 
place  in  Venice.  Zorzi,  said  the  Governor,  would 
certainly  be  taken  into  custody  unless  he  had  escaped 
to  the  mainland.  Beroviero  could  have  wrung  his 
hands  for  sheer  despair,  and  when  he  told  Marietta  the 
result  of  his  second  visit  to  the  Governor,  her  heart 
sank,  for  Zorzi's  danger  was  greater  than  ever  before, 
and  it  was  not  likely  that  a  man  who  had  been  so 
mysteriously  rescued,  to  the  manifest  injury  and  dis- 
grace of  those  who  were  taking  him  to  prison,  could 
escape  torture.  He  would  certainly  be  suspected  of 
connivance  with  secret  enemies  of  the  Republic. 

Beroviero  bethought  him  of  the  friends  he  had  in 
Venice,  to  whom  he  might  apply  for  help  in  his  diffi- 
culty. In  the  first  place  there  was  Messer  Luigi 
Foscarini,  a  Procurator  of  Saint  Mark  ;  but  he  had 
not  been  long  in  office,  and  he  would  probably  not 
wish  to  be  concerned  in  any  matter  which  tended  to 
oppose  authority.  And  there  was  old  Contarini,  who 
was  himself  one  of  the  Ten  ;  Beroviero  knew  his 
character  well  and  judged  that  he  would  not  be  lenient 
towards  any  one  who  had  been  forcibly  rescued,  no 


396  MARIETTA 

matter  how  innocent  he  might  be.  Moreover  the  law 
against  foreigners  who  attempted  to  work  in  glass  was 
in  force,  and  very  stringent.  Contarini,  like  many 
over-wise  men  who  have  no  control  whatever  over  their 
own  children,  was  always  for  excessive  severity  in  all 
processes  of  the  law.  Beroviero  thought  of  some 
others,  but  against  each  one  he  found  some  real 
objection. 

Sitting  in  his  chair  after  supper,  he  talked  earnestly 
of  the  matter  with  Marietta,  who  sat  opposite  him 
with  her  work,  by  the  large  brass  lamp.  For  the 
present  he  had  almost  forgotten  the  question  of  her 
marriage,  for  all  his  former  affection  for  Zorzi  had  re- 
turned, with  the  conviction  of  his  innocence,  and  the 
case  was  very  urgent.  That  very  night  Zorzi  might 
be  found,  and  on  the  next  morning  he  might  be 
brought  before  the  Ten  to  be  examined.  Marietta 
thought  with  terror  of  the  awful  tales  Nella  had  told 
her  about  the  little  torture  chamber  behind  the  hall 
of  the  Council. 

"  Who  is  that  Messer  Zuan  Venier,  who  came  to  see 
Zorzi  ?  "  asked  Marietta  suddenly. 

"  A  young  man  who  fought  very  bravely  in  the 
East,  I  believe,"  answered  Beroviero.  "  His  father 
was  the  Admiral  of  the  Republic  for  some  time." 

"  He  has  talked  with  Zorzi,"  said  Marietta.  "  Pasquale 
said  so.  He  must  have  liked  him,  of  course  ;  and  none 
of  the  other  patricians  you  have  mentioned  have  ever 
seen  him.  Messer  Zuan  is  not  in  office,  and  has  noth- 
ing to  lose.  Perhaps  he  will  be  willing  to  use  his 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  89< 

influence  with  his  father.  If  only  the  Ten  could  know 
the  whole  truth  before  Zorzi  is  brought  before  them, 
it  would  be  very  different." 

Beroviero  saw  that  there  was  some  wisdom  in  apply- 
ing to  a  younger  man,  like  Zuan  Venier,  who  had 
nothing  at  stake,  and  since  Venier  had  come  to  visit 
him,  there  could  be  nothing  strange  in  his  returning 
the  courtesy  as  soon  as  he  conveniently  could. 

On  the  following  morning  therefore  the  master  be- 
took himself  to  Venice  in  his  gondola.  Pasquale  was 
already  gone  in  the  skiff,  on  the  errand  entrusted  to 
him.  He  had  judged  it  best  not  to  put  on  his  Sunday 
clothes,  nor  his  clean  shirt,  nor  to  waste  time  in  im- 
proving his  appearance  at  the  barber's,  for  he  had  been 
shaved  on  Saturday  night  as  usual  and  the  week  was 
not  yet  half  over.  Hidden  in  the  bow  of  the  little 
boat  there  lay  his  provision  for  the  day,  half  a  loaf  of 
bread,  a  thick  slice  of  cheese  and  two  onions,  with  an 
earthen  bottle  of  water.  With  these  supplies  the  old 
sailor  knew  that  he  could  roam  the  canals  of  Venice 
for  twenty-four  hours  if  he  chose,  and  he  also  had 
some  money  in  case  it  should  seem  wise  to  ply  an 
acquaintance  with  a  little  strong  wine  in  order  to  pro- 
mote conversation. 

The  morning  was  sultry  and  a  light  haze  hung  over 
the  islands  at  sunrise,  which  is  by  no  means  usual. 
Pasquale  sniffed  the  air  as  he  rowed  himself  through 
the  narrow  canals.  There  was  a  mingled  smell  of 
stagnant  salt  water,  cabbage  stalks,  water-melons  and 
wood  smoke  long  unfamiliar  to  him,  and  reminding 


398  MARIETTA 

him  pleasantly  of  his  childhood.  Wherever  a  bit  of 
stone  pier  ran  along  by  an  open  space,  scores  of  olive- 
skinned  boys  were  bathing,  and  as  he  passed  they 
yelled  at  him  and  splashed  him.  Many  a  time  he  had 
done  the  same,  long  ago,  and  had  sometimes  got  a  sharp 
knock  from  the  blade  of  an  oar  for  his  pains. 

The  high  walls  made  brown  shadows,  that  struck 
across  the  greenish  water,  shivering  away  to  long 
streaks  of  broken  light  and  shade,  and  trying  to  dance 
and  rock  themselves  together  for  a  moment  before  a 
passing  boat  disturbed  them  again.  In  the  shade 
boats  were  moored,  laden  with  fresh  vegetables,  and 
with  jars  of  milk  brought  in  from  the  islands  and  the 
mainland  before  dawn.  From  open  windows,  here  and 
there,  red-haired  women  with  dark  eyes  looked  down 
idly,  and  breathed  the  morning  air  for  a  few  minutes 
before  beginning  their  household  work.  The  bells  of 
Saint  John  and  Saint  Paul  were  ringing  to  low  mass, 
and  a  few  old  women  with  black  shawls  over  their 
heads,  and  wooden  clogs  on  their  feet,  made  a  faint 
clattering  as  they  straggled  to  the  door. 

It  was  long  since  Pasquale  had  been  in  Venice.  He 
could  not  remember  exactly  how  many  years  had 
passed,  but  the  city  had  changed  little,  and  still  after 
many  centuries  there  is  but  little  and  slow  change. 
The  ways  and  turnings  were  as  familiar  to  him  as  ever, 
and  would  have  been  unforgotten  if  he  had  never  taken 
the  trouble  to  cross  the  lagoon  again,  to  his  dying  day. 
The  soft  sounds,  the  violent  colours,  the  splendid 
gloom  of  deep-arched  halls  that  went  straight  from 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  399 

the  great  open  door  at  the  water's  edge  to  the  shadowy 
heart  of  the  palace  within  ;  the  boatmen  polishing  the 
metal  work  of  their  gondolas  with  brick  dust  and  olive 
oil ;  the  servants,  still  in  rough  working  clothes,  sweep- 
ing the  steps,  and  trimming  off  the  charred  hemp- 
wicks  of  torches  that  had  been  used  in  the  night ;  the 
single  woman's  voice  far  overhead  that  broke  the  si- 
lence of  some  narrow  way,  singing  its  song  for  sheer 
gladness  of  an  idle  heart ;  it  was  all  as  it  used  to  be, 
and  Pasquale  had  a  dim  consciousness  that  he  loved 
it  better  than  his  dreary  little  den  in  Murano,  and 
better  than  his  Sunday  walk  as  far  as  San  Donate, 
when  all  the  handsome  women  and  pretty  girls  of  the 
smaller  people  were  laughing  away  the  cool  hours  and 
showing  off  their  little  fineries.  It  was  but  a  vague 
suggestion  of  a  sentiment  with  him,  and  no  more.  He 
knew  that  he  should  starve  if  he  came  back  to  Venice, 
and  what  was  the  pleasant  smell  of  the  cabbage  stalks 
and  water-melons  that  it  should  compare  with  the 
security  of  daily  bread  and  lodging,  with  some  money 
to  spare,  and  two  suits  of  clothes  every  year,  which 
his  master  gave  him  in  return  for  keeping  a  single 
door  shut? 

He  pushed  out  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  where  as  yet 
there  were  few  boats  and  no  gondolas  at  all,  and  soon 
he  turned  the  corner  of  the  Salute  and  rowed  out 
slowly  upon  the  Giudecca,  where  the  merchant  vessels 
lay  at  anchor,  large  and  small,  galliots  and  feluccas 
and  many  a  broad  '  trabacolo '  from  the  Istrian  coast, 
with  huge  spreading  bows,  and  hawse  ports  painted 


400  MARIETTA 

scarlet  like  great  red  eyes.  The  old  sailor's  heart  was 
gladdened  by  the  sight  of  them,  and  as  he  rested  on 
his  single  oar,  he  gently  cursed  the  land,  and  all  land- 
locked places,  and  rivers  and  fresh  water,  and  all  lakes 
and  inland  canals,  and  wished  himself  once  more  on 
the  high  seas  with  a  stout  vessel,  a  lazy  captain,  a 
dozen  hard-fisted  shipmates  and  a  quarter  of  a  century 
less  to  his  account  of  years. 

He  had  been  dreaming  a  little,  and  now  he  bent  to 
the  oar  again  and  sent  the  skiff  quietly  along  by  the 
pier,  looking  out  for  any  idle  seamen  who  might  be 
led  into  conversation.  Before  long  he  spied  a  couple, 
sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  stones  near  some  steps  and 
fishing  with  long  canes.  He  passed  them,  of  course, 
without  looking  at  them,  lest  they  should  suspect  that 
he  had  come  their  way  purposely,  and  he  made  the 
skiff  fast  by  the  stair,  after  which  he  sat  down  on  a 
thwart  and  stared  vacantly  at  things  in  general,  being 
careful  not  to  bestow  a  glance  on  the  two  men.  Pres- 
ently one  of  them  caught  a  small  fish,  and  Pasquale 
judged  that  the  moment  for  scraping  an  acquaintance 
had  begun.  He  turned  his  head  and  watched  how  the 
man  unhooked  the  fish  and  dropped  it  flapping  into 
a  basket  made  of  half-dried  rushes. 

"There  are  no  whales  in  the  canal,"  he  observed. 
"There  are  not  even  tunny  fish.  But  what  there  is, 
it  seems  that  you  know  how  to  catch." 

"  I  do  what  I  can,  according  to  my  little  skill,"  an 
swered  the  man.     "  It  passes  the  time,  and  then  it  is 
always  something  to  eat  with  the  bread." 


A   MAID  OF  VENICE  401 

"Yes,"  Pasquale  answered.  "A  roasted  fish  on 
bread  with  a  little  oil  is  very  savoury.  As  for  passing 
the  time,  I  suppose  that  you  are  looking  for  a  ship." 

"  Of  course,"  the  man  replied.  "  If  we  had  a  ship 
we  should  not  be  here  fishing  1  It  is  a  bad  time  of 
the  year,  you  must  know,  for  most  of  the  Venetian 
vessels  are  at  sea,  and  we  do  not  care  to  ship  with  any 
Neapolitan  captain  who  chances  to  have  starved  some 
of  his  crew  to  death  ! " 

"  I  have  heard  of  a  rich  Greek  merchant  captain  who 
has  been  in  Venice  some  time,"  observed  Pasquale 
carelessly.  "  He  will  be  looking  out  for  a  crew  before 
long." 

"  Is  Captain  Aristarchi  going  to  sea  at  last  ?  "  asked 
the  man  who  had  not  spoken  yet.  "  Or  do  you  mean 
some  other  captain  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  name,  I  believe,"  said  Pasquale.  "  It 
was  an  outlandish  name  like  that.  Do  you  ever  see 
him  about  the  docks?  I  saw  him  once,  a  piece  of 
man,  I  tell  you,  with  bones  like  a  bull  and  a  face  like  a 
bear." 

"He  is  not  often  seen,"  answered  the  man  who  had 
spoken  last.  "That  is  his  ship;  over  there,  between 
the  'trabacolo '  and  the  dismasted  hulk." 

"  I  see  her,"  returned  Pasquale  at  once.     "  A  thor 
ough  Greek  she  is,  too,  by  her  looks,  but  well  kept 
enough  if  she  is  only  waiting  for  a  cargo,  with  two 
or  three  hands  on  board." 

The  men  laughed  a  little  at  Pasquale's  ignorance 
concerning  the  vessel. 

2D 


402  MARIETTA 

"  She  has  a  full  crew,"  said  one.  "  She  is  always 
ready  for  sea  at  any  moment,  with  provisions  and 
water.  No  one  can  understand  what  the  captain 
means,  nor  why  he  is  here,  nor  why  he  is  willing  to 
pay  twenty  men  for  doing  nothing." 

"  Does  the  captain  live  on  board  of  her  ?  "  inquired 
Pasquale  indifferently. 

"  Not  he  !  He  is  amusing  himself  in  Venice.  He 
has  hired  a  house  by  the  month,  not  far  from  the 
Baker's  Bridge,  and  there  he  has  been  living  for  a  long 
time." 

"  He  must  be  very  rich,"  observed  Pasquale,  who 
had  found  out  what  he  wished  to  know,  but  was  too 
wise  to  let  the  conversation  drop  too  abruptly.  "  From 
what  you  say,  however,  he  needs  no  more  hands  on  his 
vessel,"  he  added. 

"  It  is  not  for  us,"  answered  the  man.  "  We  will 
ship  with  a  captain  we  know,  and  with  shipmates  from 
our  own  country,  who  are  Christians  and  understand 
the  compass." 

This  he  said  because  all  sea-going  vessels  did  not 
carry  a  compass  in  those  days. 

"  And  until  we  can  pick  up  a  ship  we  like,"  added 
the  other  man,  "  we  will  live  on  bread  and  water,  and 
if  we  can  catch  a  fish  now  and  then  in  the  canal,  so 
much  the  better." 

Pasquale  cast  off  the  bit  of  line  that  moored  his 
skiff,  shipped  his  single  oar,  and  with  a  parting  word 
to  the  men,  he  pushed  off. 

"You  are  quite  right!"  he  said.  "Eh!  A  roast 
fish  is  a  savoury  thing." 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  403 

They  nodded  to  him  and  again  became  intent  on 
their  pastime.  Pasquale  rowed  faster  than  before, 
and  he  passed  close  under  the  stern  of  the  Greek  ves- 
sel. The  mate  was  leaning  over  the  taffrail  under  the 
poop  awning.  He  was  dressed  in  baggy  garments  of 
spotless  white,  his  big  blue  cap  was  stuck  far  back  on 
his  head,  and  his  strong  brown  arms  were  bare  to  the 
elbow.  He  looked  as  broad  as  he  was  long. 

"  Is  the  captain  on  board,  sir?  "  asked  Pasquale,  at  a 
venture,  but  looking  at  the  mate  with  interest. 

He  expected  that  he  would  answer  the  question  in 
the  negative,  by  sticking  out  his  jaw  and  throwing  his 
head  a  little  backward.  To  his  surprise  the  mate 
returned  his  gaze  a  moment,  and  then  stood  upright. 

"  Keep  under  the  counter,"  he  said  in  fairly  good 
Italian.  "I  will  go  and  see  if  the  captain  is  in  his 
cabin." 

Pasquale  waited,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  mate 
returned,  dropped  a  Jacob's  ladder  over  the  taffrail  and 
made  it  fast  on  board.  Pasquale  hitched  the  painter 
of  the  skiff  to  the  end  that  hung  down,  and  went  up 
easily  enough  in  spite  of  his  age  and  stiffened  joints. 
He  climbed  over  the  rail  and  stood  beside  the  mate. 
The  instant  his  feet  touched  the  white  deck  he  wished 
he  had  put  on  his  Sunday  hose  and  his  clean  shirt. 
He  touched  his  cap,  as  he  assuredly  would  not  have 
done  ashore,  to  any  one  but  his  master. 

"  You  seem  to  have  been  a  sailor,"  said  the  Greek 
mate,  in  an  approving  tone. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Pasquale.     "  Is  Zorzi  still  safe?  " 


404  MARIETTA 

"The  captain  will  tell  you  about  Zorzi,"  was  the 
mate's  answer,  as  he  led  the  way. 

Aristarchi  was  seated  with  one  leg  under  him  on  a 
broad  transom  over  which  was  spread  a  priceless  Per-- 
si  an  silk  carpet,  such  as  the  richest  patrician  in  Venice 
would  have  hung  on  the  wall  like  a  tapestry  of  greatf 
value.     He  looked  at  Pasquale,  and  the  latter   heard 
the  door  shut  behind  him.     At  the  same  instant  a  well- 
known  voice  greeted  him  by  name,  as   Zorzi   himself 
appeared  from  the  inner  cabin. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you  so  soon,"  said  the  porter 
with  a  growl  of  satisfaction. 

"  I  wish  you  had  found  him  sooner,"  laughed  Aris- 
tarchi carelessly.  "  And  since  you  are  here,  I  hope  you 
will  carry  him  off  with  you  and  never  let  me  see  his 
face  again,  till  all  this  disturbance  is  over !  I  would 
rather  have  carried  off  the  Doge  himself,  with  his 
precious  velvet  night-cap  on  his  head,  than  have  taken 
this  fellow  the  other  night.  All  Venice  is  after  him. 
I  was  just  going  to  drown  him,  to  get  rid  of  him." 

There  was  a  sort  of  savage  good-nature  in  the  Greek's 
tone  which  was  reassuring,  in  spite  of  his  ferocious 
looks  and  words. 

"  You  would  have  been  hanged  if  you  had,"  observed 
Pasquale  in  answer  to  the  last  words. 

Zorzi  was  evidently  none  the  worse  for  what  had 
happened  to  him  since  his  arrest  and  unexpected  libera- 
tion. He  was  not  of  the  sort  that  suffer  by  the  imagi- 
nation when  there  is  real  danger,  for  he  had  plenty  of 
good  sense.  Pasquale  told  him  that  the  master  had 
returned. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  405 

"We  knew  it  yesterday,"  Zorzi  answered.  "The 
captain  seems  to  know  everything." 

"Listen  to  me,  friend  porter,"  Aristarchi  said.  "If 
you  will  take  this  young  fellow  with  you  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  you.  I  took  him  from  the  Governor's  men 
out  of  mere  kindness  of  heart,  because  I  liked  him  the 
first  time  I  saw  him,  but  the  Ten  are  determined  to  get 
him  into  their  hands,  and  I  have  no  fancy  to  go  with 
him  and  answer  for  the  half-dozen  crowns  my  mate  and 
I  broke  in  that  frolic  at  Murano." 

Pasquale's  small  eyes  twinkled  at  the  thought  of  the 
discomfited  archers. 

"  We  have  changed  our  lodgings  three  times  since 
yesterday  afternoon,"  continued  Aristarchi,  "  and  I  am 
tired  of  carrying  this  lame  bottle-blower  up  and  down 
rope  ladders,  when  the  Signers  of  the  Night  are  at  the 
door.  So  drop  him  over  the  rail  into  your  boat  and  let 
me  lead  a  peaceful  life." 

"  Like  an  honest  merchant  captain  as  you  are,"  added 
Pasquale  with  a  grin.  "  We  have  been  anxious  for 
you,"  he  added,  looking  at  Zorzi.  "  The  master  is  in 
Venice  this  morning,  to  see  his  friends  on  your  behalf, 
I  think." 

"  If  we  go  back  openly,"  said  Zorzi,  "  we  may  both 
be  taken  at  any  moment." 

"  If  they  catch  me,"  answered  Pasquale,  "  they  will 
heave  me  overboard.  I  am  not  worth  salting.  But 
they  need  not  catch  , either  of  us.  Once  in  the  labora- 
tory at  Murano,  they  will  never  find  you.  That  is  the 
one  place  where  they  will  not  look  for  you." 


406  MAEIETTA 

The  mate  put  his  head  down  through  the  small  hatch 
overhead. 

"  I  do  not  like  the  look  of  a  boat  that  has  just  put  off 
from  Saint  George's,"  he  said. 

Aristarchi  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Pick  him  up  and  drop  him  into  the  porter's  skiff," 
he  said.  "  I  am  sick  of  dancing  with  the  fellow  in  my 
arms." 

With  incredible  ease  Aristarchi  took  Zorzi  round  the 
waist,  mounted  the  cabin  table  and  passed  him  up 
through  the  hatch  to  the  mate,  who  had  already 
brought  him  to  the  Jacob's  ladder  at  the  stern  before 
Pasquale  could  get  there  by  the  ordinary  way. 

"  Quick,  man ! "  said  the  mate,  as  the  old  sailor 
climbed  over  the  rail. 

At  the  same  time  he  slipped  the  bight  of  short  rope 
round  Zorzi's  body  under  his  arms  and  got  a  turn 
round  the  rail  with  both  parts,  so  as  to  lower  him 
easily.  Zorzi  helped  himself  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
in  a  few  moments  he  was  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the 
skiff,  covered  with  a  piece  of  sacking  which  the  mate 
threw  down,  the  rope  ladder  was  hauled  up  and  disap 
peared,  and  when  Pasquale  glanced  back  as  he  rowed 
slowly  away,  the  mate  was  leaning  over  the  taffrail  in 
an  attitude  of  easy  unconcern. 

The  old  porter  had  smuggled  more  than  one  bale  of 
rich  goods  ashore  in  his  young  days,  for  a  captain  who 
had  a  dislike  of  the  customs,  and  he  knew  that  his 
chance  of  safety  lay  not  in  speed,  but  in  showing  a 
cool  indifference.  He  might  have  dropped  down  the 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  407 

Giudecca  at  a  good  rate,  for  the  tide  was  fair,  but  he 
preferred  a  direction  that  would  take  him  right  across 
the  course  of  the  boat  which  the  mate  had  seen  coming, 
as  if  he  were  on  his  way  to  the  Lido. 

The  officer  of  the  Ten,  with  four  men  in  plain  brown 
coats  and  leathern  belts,  sat  in  the  stern  of  the  eight- 
oared  launch  that  swept  swiftly  past  the  skiff  towards 
the  vessels  at  anchor.  Pasquale  rested  on  his  oar  a 
moment  and  turned  to  look,  with  an  air  of  interest  that 
would  have  disarmed  any  suspicions  the  officer  might 
have  entertained.  But  he  had  none,  and  did  not  be- 
stow a  second  glance  on  the  little  craft  with  its  shabby 
oarsman.  Then  Pasquale  began  to  row  again,  with  a 
long  even  stroke  that  had  no  air  of  haste  about  it,  but 
which  kept  the  skiff  at  a  good  speed.  When  he  saw 
that  he  was  out  of  hearing  of  other  boats,  and  heading 
for  the  Lido,  he  began  to  tell  what  he  intended  to  do 
next,  in  a  low  monotonous  tone,  glancing  down  now 
and  then  at  Zorzi's  face  that  cautiously  peered  at  him 
out  from  the  folds  of  the  sackcloth. 

"  I  will  tell  you  when  to  cover  yourself,"  he  said, 
speaking  at  the  horizon.  "  We  shall  have  to  spend  the 
day  under  one  of  the  islands.  I  have  some  bread  and 
cheese  and  water,  and  there  are  onions.  When  it  is 
night  I  will  just  slip  into  our  canal  at  Murano,  and  you 
can  sleep  in  the  laboratory,  as  if  you  had  never  left  it.v 

"If  they  find  me  there,  they  cannot  say  that  I  am 
hiding,"  said  Zorzi  with  a  low  laugh. 

"  Lie  low,"  said  Pasquale  softly.  "  There  is  a  boa* 
coming. " 


408  MARIETTA. 

For  ten  minutes  neither  spoke,  and  Zorzi  lay  quite 

still,  covering  his  face.  When  the  danger  was  past 
Pasquale  began  to  talk  again,  and  told  him  all  he  him- 
self knew  of  what  had  happened,  which  was  not  much, 
but  which  included  the  assurance  that  the  master  was 
for  him,  and  had  turned  against  Giovanni. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Zorzi,  by  and  by,  when  they  were 
moored  to  a  stake,  far  out  in  the  lagoon,  "I  was 
whirled  from  place  to  place  by  those  two  men,  till  I 
did  not  know  where  I  was.  When  they  first  carried 
me  off,  they  made  me  lie  in  the  bottom  of  their  boat  as 
I  am  lying  now,  and  they  took  me  to  a  house  some- 
where near  the  Baker's  Bridge.  Do  you  know  the 
house  of  the  Agnus  Dei  ? " 

Pasquale  grunted. 

"  It  was  not  far  from  that,"  Zorzi  continued. 
"  Aristarchi  lives  there.  The  mate  went  back  to  the 
ship,  I  suppose,  and  Aristarchi's  servant  gave  us 
supper.  Then  we  slept  quietly  till  morning  and  I 
stayed  there  all  day,  but  Aristarchi  thought  it  would 
not  be  safe  to  keep  me  in  his  house  the  next  night  — 
that  was  last  night.  He  said  he  feared  that  a  certain 
lady  had  guessed  where  I  was.  He  is  a  mysterious  in- 
dividual, this  Greek  I  So  I  was  taken  somewhere  else 
in  the  bottom  of  a  boat,  after  dark.  I  do  not  know 
where  it  was,  but  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  garret 
of  some  tavern  where  they  play  dice.  After  midnight 
I  heard  a  great  commotion  below  me,  and  presently 
Aristarchi  appeared  at  the  window  with  a  rope.  He 
always  seems  to  have  a  coil  of  rope  within  reach  I  He 


A   MAID  OF   VENICE  409 

tied  me  to  him  —it  was  like  being  tied  to  a  wild  horse 
—  and  he  got  us  safely  down  from  the  window  to  the 
boat  again,  and  the  mate  was  in  it,  and  they  took  me 
to  the  ship  faster  than  I  was  ever  rowed  in  my  life. 
You  know  the  rest." 

All  through  the  long  July  day  they  lay  in  the 
fierce  sun,  shading  themselves  with  the  sacking  as 
best  they  could.  But  when  it  was  dark  at  last,  Pas- 
quale  cast  off  and  headed  the  skiff  for  Muraco. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

JACOPO  CONTAKINI'S  luck  at  dice  had  changed  of 
late,  and  his  friends  no  longer  spoke  of  losing  like 
him,  but  of  winning  as  he  did,  on  almost  every  throw. 

"Nevertheless,"  said  the  big  Foscari  to  Zuan 
Venier,  "  his  love  affairs  seem  to  prosper  !  The 
Georgian  is  as  beautiful  as  ever,  and  he  is  going  to 
marry  a  rich  wife." 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  Zorzi 
had  left  Aristarchi's  ship,  and  the  two  patricians 
were  lounging  in  the  shady  Merceria,  where  the 
overhanging  balconies  of  the  wooden  houses  almost 
met  above,  and  the  merchants  sat  below  in  the  win- 
dows of  their  deep  shops,  on  the  little  platforms 
which  were  at  once  counters  and  window-sills.  The 
street  smelt  of  Eastern  silks  and  Spanish  leather, 
and  of  the  Egyptian  pastils  which  the  merchants 
of  perfumery  continually  burnt  in  order  to  attract 
custom. 

"I  am  not  qualmish,"  answered  Venier  languidly, 
•'yet  it  sickens  me  to  think  of  the  life  Jacopo 
means  to  lead.  I  am  sorry  for  the  glass-maker's 
daughter." 

410 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  411 

Foscari  laughed  carelessly.  The  idea  that  a  woman 
should  be  looked  upon  as  anything  more  than  a  slave 
or  an  object  of  prey  had  never  occurred  to  him.  But 
Venier  did  not  smile. 

"  Since  we  speak  of  glass-makers,"  he  said,  "  Jacopo 
is  doing  his  best  to  get  that  unlucky  Dalmatian  impris- 
oned and  banished.  Old  Beroviero  came  to  see  me  this 
morning  and  told  me  a  long  story  about  it,  which  I 
cannot  possibly  remember;  but  it  seems  to  me  —  you 
understand  !  " 

He  spoke  in  low  tones,  for  the  Merceria  was  crowded. 
Foscari,  who  was  one  of  those  who  took  most  seriously 
the  ceremonial  of  the  secret  society,  while  not  caring  a 
straw  for  its  political  side,  looked  very  grave. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  say  that  the  poor  fellow  is  only  a 
glass-blower,"  Venier  continued.  "  There  are  men 
besides  patricians  in  the  world,  and  good  men,  too.  I 
mean  to  tell  Contarini  what  I  think  of  it  to-night." 

"  I  will,  too,"  said  Foscari  at  once. 

"  And  I  intend  to  use  all  the  influence  my  family 
has,  to  obtain  a  fair  hearing  for  the  Dalmatian.  I  hope 
you  will  help  me.  Amongst  us  we  can  reach  every  one 
of  the  Council  of  Ten,  except  old  Contarini,  who  has 
the  soul  of  a  school-master  and  the  intelligence  of  a 
crab.  If  I  did  not  like  the  fellow,  I  suppose  I  should 
let  him  be  hanged  several  times  rather  than  take  so 
much  trouble.  Sins  of  omission  are  my  strongest  point. 
I  have  always  surprised  my  confessor  at  Easter  by  the 
extraordinary  number  of  things  I  have  left  undone. " 

"  I  daresay,"  laughed  Foscari,  "  but  I  remember  that 


412  MARIETTA 

you  were  not  too  lazy  to  save  me  from  drowning  when 
I  fell  into  the  Grand  Canal  in  carnival." 

"  I  forgot  that  the  water  was  so  cold,"  said  Venier. 
"  If  I  had  guessed  how  chilly  it  was,  I  should  certainly 
not  have  pulled  you  out.  There  is  old  Hossein  at  his 
window.  Let  us  go  in  and  drink  sherbet." 

44  We  shall  find  Mocenigo  and  Loredan  there,"  an- 
swered Foscari.  "They  shall  promise  to  help  the 
glass-blower,  too." 

They  nodded  to  the  Persian  merchant,  who  saluted 
them  by  extending  his  hand  towards  the  ground  as  if 
to  take  up  dust,  and  then  bringing  it  to  his  forehead. 
He  was  very  fat,  and  his  pear-shaped  face  might  have 
been  carved  out  of  white  cheese.  The  two  young  men 
went  in  by  a  small  door  at  the  side  of  the  window- 
counter  and  disappeared  into  the  interior.  At  the  back 
of  the  shop  there  was  a  private  room  with  a  latticed 
window  that  looked  out  upon  a  narrow  canal.  It  was 
one  of  many  places  where  the  young  Venetians  met  in 
the  afternoon  to  play  at  dice  undisturbed,  on  pretence 
of  examining  Hossein's  splendid  carpets  and  Oriental 
silks.  Moreover  Hossein's  wife,  always  invisible  but 
ever  near,  had  a  marvellous  gift  for  making  fruit  sher- 
bets, cooled  with  the  snow  that  was  brought  down  daily 
from  the  mountains  on  the  mainland  in  dripping  bales 
covered  with  straw  matting. 

Loredan  and  Mocenigo  were  already  there,  as  Fos- 
cari had  anticipated,  eating  pistachio  nuts  and  sipping 
sherbet  through  rice  straws  out  of  tall  glasses  from 
Murano.  It  was  a  very  safe  place,  for  Hossein's  know- 


A   MAID   OF   VENICE  413 

ledge  of  the  Italian  language  was  of  a  purely  commercial 
character,  embracing  every  numeral  and  fraction,  com- 
mon or  uncommon,  and  the  names  of  all  the  hundreds 
of  foreign  coins  that  passed  current  in  Venice,  together 
with  half-a-dozen  necessary  phrases  ;  and  his  invisible 
but  occasionally  audible  wife  understood  no  Italian  at 
all.  Also,  Hossein  was  always  willing  to  lend  any 
young  patrician  money  with  which  to  pay  his  losses,  at 
the  modest  rate  of  seven  ducats  to  be  paid  every  week 
for  the  use  of  each  hundred  ;  which  one  of  the  youths, 
who  had  a  turn  for  arithmetic,  had  discovered  to  be 
only  about  364  per  cent  yearly,  whereas  Casadio,  the 
Hebrew,  had  a  method  of  his  own  by  which  he  man- 
aged to  get  about  580.  It  was  therefore  a  real  economy 
to  frequent  Hossein's  shop. 

In  spite  of  his  pretended  forgetfulness,  Venier  re- 
membered every  word  that  Beroviero  had  told  him, 
and  indolently  as  he  talked,  his  whole  nature  was 
roused  to  defend  Zorzi.  In  his  heart  he  despised  Con- 
tarini,  and  hoped  that  his  marriage  might  never  take 
place,  for  he  was  sincerely  sorry  for  Marietta  ;  but  it 
was  Jacopo's  behaviour  towards  Zorzi  that  called  forth 
his  wrath,  it  was  the  man's  disdainful  assumption  that 
because  Zorzi  was  not  a  patrician,  the  oath  to  defend 
every  companion  of  the  society  was  not  binding  where 
he  was  concerned ;  it  was  the  insolent  certainty  that 
the  others  should  all  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  poor  Dal- 
matian, who  after  all  had  not  troubled  them  over-much 
with  his  company.  On  that  very  evening  they  were 
to  meet  at  the  house  of  the  Agnus  Dei,  and  Venier  was 


MAEIETTA 

determined  to  speak  his  mind.  When  he  chose  to 
exert  himself,  his  influence  over  his  companions  was 
very  great,  if  not  supreme. 

He  soon  brought  Mocenigo  and  Loredan  to  share 
his  opinion  and  to  promise  the  support  of  all  their  many 
relations  in  Zorzi's  favour,  and  the  four  began  to  play, 
for  lack  of  anything  better  to  do.  Before  long  others 
of  the  society  came  in,  and  as  each  arrived  Venier,  who 
only  played  in  order  not  to  seem  as  unsociable  as  he 
generally  felt,  set  down  the  dice  box  to  gain  over  a 
new  ally.  An  hour  had  passed  when  Contarini  him- 
self appeared,  even  more  magnificent  than  usual,  his 
beautiful  waving  beard  most  carefully  trimmed  and 
combed  as  if  to  show  it  to  its  greatest  advantage 
against  the  purple  silk  of  a  surcoat  cut  in  a  new  fash- 
ion and  which  he  was  wearing  for  the  first  time.  His 
white  hands  were  splendid  with  jewelled  rings,  and 
he  wore  at  his  belt  a  large  wallet-purse  embroidered  in 
Constantinople  before  the  coming  of  the  Turks  and 
adorned  with  three  enamelled  images  of  saints.  Hossein 
himself  ushered  him  in,  as  if  he  were  the  guest  of  hon- 
our, as  the  Persian  merchant  indeed  considered  him, 
for  none  of  the  others  had  ever  paid  him  half  so  many 
seven  weekly  ducats  for  money  borrowed  in  all  their 
lives,  as  Jacopo  had  often  paid  in  a  single  year. 

There  are  men  whom  no  one  respects  very  highly, 
who  are  not  sincerely  trusted,  whose  honour  is  not 
spotless  and  whose  ways  are  far  from  straight,  but  who 
nevertheless  hold  a  certain  ascendancy  over  others,  by 
mere  show  and  assurance.  When  Contarini  entered  a 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  415 

place  where  many  were  gathered  together,  there  was 
almost  always  a  little  hush  in  the  talk,  followed  by  a 
murmur  that  was  pleasant  in  his  ear.  No  one  paused 
to  look  at  Zuan  Venier  when  he  came  into  a  room, 
though  there  was  not  one  of  his  friends  who  would  not 
have  gone  to  him  in  danger  or  difficulty,  without  so 
much  as  thinking  of  Contarini  as  a  possible  helper  in 
trouble.  But  it  was  almost  impossible  not  to  feel  a 
sort  of  artistic  surprise  at  Jacopo's  extraordinary  beauty 
of  face  and  figure,  if  not  at  the  splendid  garments  in 
which  he  delighted  to  array  himself. 

It  was  with  a  slight  condescension  that  he  greeted 
the  group  of  players,  some  of  whom  at  once  made  a 
place  for  him  at  the  table.  They  had  been  ready 
enough  to  stand  by  Venier  against  him  in  Zorzi's  de- 
fence, but  unless  Venier  led  the  way,  there  was  not  one 
of  them  who  would  think  of  opposing  him,  or  taking 
him  to  task  for  what  was  very  like  a  betrayal.  Venier 
returned  his  greeting  with  some  coldness,  which  Con- 
tarini hardly  noticed,  as  his  reception  by  the  others 
had  been  sufficiently  flattering.  Then  they  began  to 
play. 

Jacopo  won  from  the  first.  Foscari  bent  his  heavy 
eyebrows  and  tugged  at  his  beard  angrily,  as  he  lost 
one  throw  after  another  ;  the  cold  sweat  stood  on 
Mocenigo's  forehead  in  beads,  as  he  risked  more  and 
more,  and  Loredan's  hand  trembled  when  it  was  his 
turn  to  take  up  the  dice  box  against  Contarini  ;  for 
they  played  a  game  in  which  each  threw  against  all  the 
rest  in  succession. 

. 


116  MARIETTA 

"  You  cannot  say  that  the  dice  are  loaded,"  laughed 
Contarini  at  last,  "  for  they  are  your  own  1 " 

"The  delicacy  of  the  thought  is  only  exceeded  by 
the  good  taste  that  expresses  it,"  observed  Venier. 

"You  are  sarcastic,  my  friend,"  answered  Jacopo, 
shaking  the  dice.  "  It  is  your  turn  with  me." 

Jacopo  threw  first.     Venier  followed  him  and  lost. 

"  That  is  my  last  throw,"  he  said,  as  he  pushed  the 
remains  of  his  small  heap  of  gold  across  to  Contarini. 
"  I  have  no  more  money  to-day,  nor  shall  I  have 
to-morrow." 

"  Hossein  has  plenty,"  suggested  Foscari,  who  hoped 
that  Contarini's  luck  would  desert  him  before  long. 

"  At  this  rate  you  will  need  all  he  has,"  returned 
Venier  with  a  careless  laugh. 

Before  long  more  than  one  of  the  players  was  obliged 
to  call  in  the  ever-complacent  Persian  merchant,  and 
the  heap  of  gold  grew  in  front  of  Jacopo,  till  he  could 
hardly  keep  it  together. 

"  It  is  true  that  you  have  been  losing  for  years," 
said  Mocenigo,  trying  to  laugh,  "  but  we  did  not  think 
you  would  win  back  all  your  losses  in  a  day." 

"You  shall  have  your  revenge  to-night,"  answered 
Contarini,  rising.  "  I  am  expected  at  a  friend's  house 
at  this  hour." 

His  large  wallet  was  so  full  of  gold  that  he  could 
hardly  draw  the  strong  silken  strings  together  and  tie 
them. 

"  A  friend's  house  ! "  laughed  Loredan,  who  had 
lost  somewhat  less  than  the  others.  "It  would  give 


A  MAID  Off   VENICE  417 

us  much  delight  to  know  the  colour  of  the  lady's 
hair !  " 

To  this  Contarini  answered  only  by  a  smile,  which 
was  not  devoid  of  satisfaction. 

"  Take  care  1 "  said  Foscari,  gloomily  contemplating 
the  bare  table  before  him,  over  which  so  much  of  his 
good  gold  had  slipped  away.  "  Take  care  !  Luck  at 
play,  mischance  in  love,  says  the  proverb." 

"  Oh  !  In  that  case  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear 
friend  I  "  returned  Contarini  gaily. 

The  others  laughed  at  the  retort,  and  the  party 
broke  up,  though  all  did  not  go  at  once.  Venier  went 
out  alone,  while  two  or  three  walked  with  Contarini  to 
his  gondola.  The  rest  stayed  behind  in  the  shop  and 
made  old  Hossein  unroll  his  choicest  carpets  and  show 
them  his  most  precious  embroideries,  though  he  pro- 
tested that  it  was  already  much  too  dark  to  appreciate 
such  choice  things.  But  they  did  not  wish  to  be  seen 
coming  away  in  a  body,  for  such  playing  was  very 
strictly  forbidden,  and  the  spies  of  the  Ten  were  every- 
where. 

Contarini  dismissed  his  gondola  at  the  house  of  the 
Agnus  Dei,  and  was  admitted  by  the  trusted  servant 
who  had  once  taken  a  message  to  Zorzi.  He  found 
Arisa  waiting  for  him  in  her  favourite  place  by  the 
open  window,  and  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun  made 
little  fires  in  her  golden  hair.  She  could  tell  by  his 
face  that  he  had  been  fortunate  at  play,  and  her  smile 
was  very  soft  and  winning.  As  he  sank  down  beside 
her  in  the  luxurious  silence  of  satisfaction,  her  fingers 

2E 


£18  MARIETTA 

were  stealthily  trying  the  weight  of  his  laden  wallet, 
She  could  not  lift  it  with  one  hand.  She  smiled  again, 
as  she  thought  how  easily  Aristarchi  would  carry  the 
money  in  his  teeth,  well  tied  and  knotted  in  a  kerchief, 
when  he  slipped  down  the  silk  rope  from  her  window, 
though  it  would  be  much  wiser  to  exchange  it  for 
pearls  and  diamonds  which  Contarini  might  see  and 
admire,  and  which  she  could  easily  take  with  her  in  her 
final  flight. 

He  trusted  her,  too,  in  his  careless  way,  and  that 
night,  when  he  was  ready  to  go  down  and  admit  his 
companions,  he  would  empty  most  of  the  gold  into  a 
little  coffer  in  which  he  often  left  the  key,  taking  but 
just  enough  to  play  with,  and  almost  sure  of  winning 
more. 

She  was  very  gentle  on  that  evening,  when  the  sun 
had  gone  down,  and  they  sat  in  the  deepening  dusk, 
and  she  spoke  sadly  of  not  seeing  him  for  several  hours. 
It  would  be  so  lonely,  she  said,  and  since  he  could  play 
in  the  daytime,  why  should  he  give  up  half  of  one 
precious  night  to  those  tiresome  dice?  He  laughed 
indolently,  pleased  that  she  should  not  even  suspect 
the  real  object  of  the  meetings. 

By  and  by,  when  it  was  an  hour  after  dark,  and  they 
had  eaten  of  delicate  things  which  a  silent  old  woman 
brought  them  on  small  silver  platters,  Contarini  went 
down  to  let  in  his  guests,  and  Arisa  was  alone,  as  usual 
on  such  evenings.  For  a  long  time  she  lay  quite  still 
among  the  cushions,  in  the  dark,  for  Jacopo  had  taken 
the  light  with  him.  She  loved  to  be  in  darkness,  as 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  419 

she  always  told  him,  and  for  very  good  reasons,  and 
she  had  so  accustomed  herself  to  it  as  to  see  almost 
as  well  as  Aristarchi  himself,  for  whom  she  was  wait- 
ing. 

At  last  she  heard  the  expected  signal  of  his  coming, 
the  soft  and  repeated  splashing  of  an  oar  in  the  water 
just  below  the  window.  In  a  moment  she  was  in  the 
inner  room,  to  receive  him  in  her  straining  arms,  long- 
ing to  be  half  crushed  to  death  in  his.  But  to-night, 
even  as  he  held  her  in  the  first  embrace  of  meeting,  she 
felt  that  something  had  happened,  and  that  there  was  a 
change  in  him.  She  drew  him  to  the  little  light  that 
burned  in  her  chamber  before  the  image,  and  looked 
into  his  face,  terrified  at  the  thought  of  what  she  might 
see  there.  He  smiled  at  her  and  raised  his  shaggy  eye- 
brows as  if  to  ask  if  she  really  distrusted  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  nodding  his  big  head  slowly,  "  some- 
thing has  happened.  You  are  quick  at  guessing.  We 
are  going  to-night.  There  is  moonlight  and  the  tide 
will  serve  in  two  or  three  hours.  Get  ready  what  you 
need  and  put  together  the  jewels  and  the  money." 

"  To-night  ! "  cried  Arisa,  very  much  surprised. 
"  To-night  ?  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  am  in  earnest.  Michael  has  emptied  my 
house  of  all  my  belongings  to-day  and  has  taken  the 
keys  back  to  the  owner.  We  have  plenty  of  time,  for  I 
suppose  those  overgrown  boys  are  playing  at  dice  down* 
stairs,  and  I  think  I  shall  take  leave  of  Contarini  in 
person." 

"  You  are  capable  of  anything  I  "  laughed  Arisa.     "  I 


420  MARIETTA 

should  like  to  see  you  tear  him  into  little  strips,  so  that 
every  shred  should  keep  alive  to  be  tortured  I  " 

"  How  amiable  !  What  gentle  thoughts  you  have  I 
Indeed,  you  women  are  sweet  creatures  !  " 

With  her  small  white  hand  she  jestingly  pretended 
to  box  his  huge  ears. 

44  You  would  be  well  paid  if  I  refused  to  go  with 
you,"  she  said  with  a  low  laugh.  44  But  I  should  like 
to  know  why  you  have  decided  so  suddenly.  What  is 
the  matter  ?  What  is  to  become  of  all  our  plans,  and 
of  Contarini's  marriage  ?  Tell  me  quickly  !  " 

44 1  have  had  a  visit  from  an  officer  of  the  Ten  to- 
day," he  said.  44  The  Ten  send  me  greeting,  as  it  were, 
and  their  service,  and  kindly  invite  me  to  leave  Venice 
within  twenty-four  hours.  As  the  Ten  are  the  only 
persons  in  Venice  for  whom  I  have  the  smallest  respect, 
I  shall  show  it  by  accepting  their  invitation." 

44  But  why  ?     What  have  you  done  ?  " 

46  Of  course  it  is  not  a  serious  matter  to  give  a  sound 
beating  to  an  officer  of  justice  and  six  of  his  men," 
answered  Aristarchi,  44  but  it  is  not  the  custom  here, 
and  they  suspect  me  of  having  done  it.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  think  I  am  hardly  treated.  I  have  sent  Zorzi 
back  to  Murano,  and  if  the  Ten  have  the  sense  to  look 
for  him  where  he  has  been  living  for  five  years,  they 
will  find  him  at  once,  at  work  in  that  stifling  furnace- 
room.  But  I  fancy  that  is  too  simple  for  them." 

He  told  her  how  Pasquale  had  come  in  the  morning, 
and  liow  the  officer  who  had  been  in  pursuit  of  him  had 
searched  the  ship  for  Zorzi  in  vain.  The  order  to  leave 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  421 

Venice  had  come  an  hour  later.  The  anchors  were 
now  up,  and  the  vessel  was  riding  to  a  kedge  by  a  light 
hawser,  well  out  in  the  channel.  As  soon  as  Arisa 
could  be  brought  on  board  Aristarchi  meant  to  make 
sail,  for  the  strong  offshore  breeze  would  blow  all  night. 

"  We  may  as  well  leave  nothing  behind,"  said  Aris- 
tarchi coolly.  "  Michael  will  wait  for  us  below,  in  one 
of  the  ship's  boats.  There  is  room  for  all  Contarini's 
possessions,  if  we  could  only  get  at  them." 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  be  content  with  what  we 
have  already,  and  to  go  at  once  ?  "  asked  Arisa  rather 
timidly. 

"No,"  replied  Aristarchi.  "I  am  going  to  say 
good-bye  to  your  old  friend  in  my  own  way." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  kill  him  ?  "  asked  Arisa  in  a  whis- 
per, though  it  was  quite  safe  for  them  to  talk  in  natural 
tones.  "  I  could  go  behind  him  and  throw  something 
over  his  head." 

Aristarchi  grinned,  and  pressed  her  beautiful  head 
to  his  breast,  caressing  her  with  his  rough  hands. 

"  You  are  as  bloodthirsty  as  a  little  tigress,"  he  said. 
"  No.  I  do  not  even  mean  to  hurt  him." 

"  Oh,  I  hoped  you  would,"  answered  the  Georgian 
woman.  "  I  have  hated  him  so  long.  Will  you  not 
kill  him,  just  to  please  me  ?  We  could  wind  him  in  a 
sheet  with  a  weight,  you  know,  and  drop  him  into  the 
canal,  and  no  one  would  ever  know.  I  have  often 
thought  of  it." 

"  Have  you,  my  gentle  little  sweetheart  ?  "  Aristar- 
chi chuckled  with  delight  as  he  stroked  her  hair.  **  I 


422  MARIETTA 

am  sorry,"  he  continued.  "  The  fact  is,  I  am  not  a 
Georgian  like  you.  I  have  been  brought  up  among 
people  of  civilisation,  and  I  have  scruples  about  killing 
any  one.  Besides,  sweet  dove,  if  we  were  to  kill  the 
son  of  one  of  the  Council  of  Ten,  the  Council  would 
pursue  us  wherever  we  went,  for  Venice  is  very  power- 
ful. But  the  Ten  will  not  lift  a  hand  to  revenge  a 
good-for-nothing  young  gamester  whose  slave  has  run 
away  with  her  first  love  !  Every  one  will  laugh  at 
Contarini  if  he  tries  to  get  redress.  It  is  better 
to  laugh  than  to  be  laughed  at,  it  is  better  to  be  laughed 
at  than  to  cry,  it  is  better  to  cry  one's  eyes  blind  than 
to  be  hanged." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  these  opinions  Aristar- 
chi  began  to  look  about  him  for  whatever  might  be 
worth  the  trouble  of  carrying  off,  and  Arisa  collected 
all  her  jewels  from  the  caskets  in  which  they  were 
kept,  and  little  bags  of  gold  coins  which  she  had  hid- 
den in  different  places.  She  also  lit  a  candle  and 
brought  Aristarchi  to  the  small  coffer  in  which  Contarini 
kept  ready  gold  for  play,  and  which  was  now  more  than 
half  full. 

"  The  dowry  of  the  glass-maker's  daughter  ! "  ob- 
served the  Greek  as  he  carried  it  off. 

There  were  small  objects  of  gold  and  silver  on  the 
tables  in  the  large  room,  there  was  a  dagger  with  a 
jewelled  hilt,  an  illuminated  mass  book  in  a  chased 
silver  case. 

"You  will  need  it  on  Sundays  at  sea,"  said  Aris- 
tarchi 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  423 

^1  cannot  read,"  said  the  Georgian  slave  regretfully. 
*  But  it  will  be  a  consolation  to  have  the  missal. " 

Aristarchi  smiled  and  tossed  the  book  upon  the  heap 
of  things. 

"  It  would  be  amusing  to  pay  a  visit  to  those  young 
fools  downstairs,  and  to  take  all  their  money  and  leave 
them  locked  up  for  the  night,"  he  said,  as  if  a  thought 
had  struck  him. 

"  There  are  too  many  of  them,"  answered  Arisa,  lay- 
ing her  hand  anxiously  upon  his  arm.  "  And  they  are 
all  armed.  Please  do  nothing  so  foolish." 

"  If  they  are  all  like  Contarini,  I  do  not  mind  twenty 
of  them  or  so,"  laughed  Aristarchi.  "  They  must  have 
more  than  a  thousand  gold  ducats  amongst  them. 
That  would  be  worth  taking." 

"They  are  not  all  like  Contarini,"  said  Arisa. 
•'  There  is  Zuan  Venier,  for  instance." 

"  Zuan  Venier  ?  Is  he  one  of  them  ?  I  have  heard 
of  him.  I  should  like  to  see  whether  he  could  be 
frightened,  for  they  say  it  is  impossible." 

Aristarchi  scratched  his  head,  pushing  his  shaggy 
hair  forward  over  his  forehead,  as  he  tried  to  think  of 
an  effectual  scheme  for  producing  the  desired  result. 

"  The  Ten  might  pursue  us  for  that,  as  well  as  for  a 
murder,"  said  Arisa. 

Meanwhile  the  friends  assembled  in  the  room  down- 
stairs had  been  occupied  for  a  long  time  in  hearing 
what  Zuan  Venier  had  to  say  to  Jacopo  Contarini,  con- 
cerning the  latter's  treatment  of  Zorzi.  For  Venier 
had  kept  his  word,  and  as  soon  as  all  were  present  he 


424  MARIETTA 

had  boldly  spoken  his  mind,  in  a  tone  which  his  friends 
were  not  accustomed  to  hear.  At  first  Contarini  had 
answered  with  offended  surprise,  asking  what  concern 
it  could  be  of  Venier's  whether  a  miserable  glass- 
blower  were  exiled  or  not,  and  he  appealed  to  the 
others,  asking  whether  it  would  not  be  far  better  for 
them  all  that  such  an  outsider  as  Zorzi  should  be 
banished  from  Venice.  But  Venier  retorted  that  the 
Dalmatian  had  taken  the  same  oath  as  the  rest  of  the 
company,  that  he  was  an  honest  man,  besides  being  a 
great  artist  as  his  master  asseverated,  and  that  he  had 
the  same  right  to  the  protection  of  each  and  all  of 
them  as  Contarini  himself.  To  the  latter's  astonish- 
ment this  speech  was  received  with  unanimous  appro- 
bation, and  every  man  present,  except  Contarini, 
promised  his  help  and  that  of  his  family,  so  far  as 
he  might  obtain  it. 

"  I  have  advised  Beroviero,"  Venier  then  continued, 
"if  he  can  find  the  young  artist,  to  make  him  go  before 
the  Council  of  Ten  of  his  own  free  will,  taking  some  of 
his  works  with  him.  And  now  that  this  question  is 
settled,  I  propose  to  you  all  that  our  society  cease  to 
have  any  political  or  revolutionary  aim  whatever,  for  I 
am  of  opinion  that  we  are  risking  our  necks  for  a  game 
at  dice  and  for  nothing  else,  which  is  childish.  The 
only  liberty  we  are  vindicating,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  is 
that  of  gaming  as  much  as  we  please,  and  if  we  do 
that,  and  nothing  more,  we  shall  certainly  not  go  be- 
tween the  red  columns  for  it.  A  fine  or  a  few  months 
of  banishment  to  the  mainland  would  be  the  worst  that 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  425 

could  happen.  As  things  are  now,  we  are  not  only  in 
danger  of  losing  our  heads  at  any  moment,  which  is 
an  affair  of  merely  relative  importance,  but  we  may  be 
tempted  to  make  light  of  a  solemn  promise,  which 
seems  to  me  a  very  grave  matter." 

Thereupon  Venier  looked  round  the  table,  and  al- 
most all  the  men  were  of  his  opinion.  Contarini  flushed 
angrily,  but  he  knew  himself  to  be  in  the  wrong  and 
though  he  was  no  coward,  he  had  not  the  sort  of  tem- 
per that  faces  opposition  for  its  own  sake.  He  there- 
fore began  to  rattle  the  dice  in  the  box  as  a  hint  to 
all  that  the  discussion  was  at  an  end. 

But  his  good  fortune  seemed  gone,  and  instead  of 
winning  at  almost  every  throw,  as  he  had  won  in  the 
afternoon,  he  soon  found  that  he  had  almost  exhausted 
the  heap  of  gold  he  had  laid  on  the  table,  and  which 
he  had  thought  more  than  enough.  He  staked  the 
remainder  with  Foscari,  who  won  it  at  a  cast,  and 
laughed. 

"You  offered  us  our  revenge,"  said  the  big  man. 
"  We  mean  to  take  it !  " 

But  though  Contarini  was  not  a  good  fighter,  he 
was  a  good  gamester,  and  never  allowed  himself  to  be 
disturbed  by  ill-luck.  He  joined  in  the  laugh  and  rose 
from  the  table. 

"  You  must  forgive  me,"  -he  said,  "  if  I  leave  you  for 
a  moment.  I  must  fill  my  purse  before  I  play  again." 

"  Do  not  stay  too  long  !  "  laughed  Loredan.  "  If 
you  do,  we  shall  come  and  get  you,  and  then  we  shall 
know  the  colour  of  the  lady's  hair." 


426  MARIETTA 

Contarini  laughed  as  lie  went  to  the  door,  opened  it 
and  stealthily  set  the  key  in  the  lock  on  the  outside. 

"  I  shall  lock  you  in  while  I  am  gone  1  "  he  cried. 
"  You  are  far  too  inquisitive  !  " 

Laughing  gaily  he  turned  the  key  on  the  whole  com- 
pany, and  he  heard  their  answering  laughter  as  he  went 
away,  for  they  accepted  the  jest,  and  continued  playing. 

He  entered  the  large  room  upstairs,  just  as  Arista,rchi 
had  finished  tying  up  the  heavy  bundle  in  the  inner 
chamber.  Arisa  heard  the  well-known  footstep,  and 
placed  one  hand  over  Aristarchi's  mouth,  lest  he  should 
speak,  while  the  other  pointed  to  the  curtained  door. 
The  Greek  held  his  breath. 

"  Arisa  !  Arisa  !  "  Contarini  called  out.  "  Bring 
me  a  light,  sweetest !  " 

Without  hesitation  Arisa  took  the  lighted  candle, 
and  making  a  gesture  of  warning  to  Aristarchi  went 
quickly  to  the  other  room.  The  Greek  crept  towards 
the  door,  the  big  veins  standing  out  like  knots  on  his 
rugged  temples,  his  great  hands  opened  wide,  with 
the  tips  of  the  fingers  a  little  turned  in.  He  was  like 
a  wrestler  ready  to  get  his  hold  with  a  spring. 

"  I  want  some  more  money,"  Contarini  was  saying, 
in  explanation.  "  They  said  they  would  follow  me  if 
I  stayed  too  long,  so  I  have  locked  them  in  !  I  think 
I  shall  keep  them  waiting  a  while.  What  do  you  say, 
love?" 

He  laughed  again,  aloud,  and  on  the  other  side 
of  the  curtain  Aristarchi  grinned  from  ear  to  ear 
and  noiselessly  loosened  the  black  sash  he  wore 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  427 

round  his  waist.  For  once  in  his  life,  as  Zorzi  would 
have  said,  he  had  not  a  coil  of  rope  at  hand  when 
he  needed  it,  but  the  sash  was  strong  and  would 
serve  the  purpose.  He  pushed  the  curtain  aside  a 
very  little,  in  order  to  see  before  springing. 

Contarini  stood  half  turned  away  from  the  door, 
clasping  Arisa  to  his  breast  and  kissing  her  hair. 
The  next  moment  he  was  sprawling  on  the  floor, 
face  downwards,  and  Arisa  was  pressing  one  of 
the  soft  cushions  from  the  divan  upon  his  head  to 
smother  his  cries,  while  Aristarchi  bound  his  hands 
firmly  together  behind  him  with  one  end  of  the  long 
sash,  and  in  spite  of  his  desperate  struggle  got  a 
turn  with  the  rest  round  both  his  feet,  drew  them  back 
as  far  as  he  could  and  hitched  the  end  twice. 
Jacopo  was  now  perfectly  helpless,  but  he  was  not 
yet  dumb.  Aristarchi  had  brought  his  tools  with 
him,  in  the  bosom  of  his  doublet. 

Kneeling  on  Contarini's  shoulders  he  took  out 
a  small  iron  instrument,  shaped  exactly  like  a  pear, 
but  which  by  a  screw,  placed  where  the  stem  would 
be,  could  be  made  to  open  out  in  four  parts  that 
spread  like  the  petals  of  a  flower.  Arisa  looked 
on  with  savage  interest,  for  she  believed  that  it  was 
some  horrible  instrument  of  torture ;  and  indeed 
it  was  the  iron  gag,  the  4pear  of  anguish,'  which 
the  torturers  used  in  those  days,  to  silence  those 
whom  they  called  their  patients. 

Holding  the  instrument  closed,  Aristarchi  pushed 
his  hand  under  the  cushion.  He  knew  that  Con- 


428  MARIETTA 

tarini's  mouth  would  be  open,  as  he  must  be  half 
suffocated  and  gasping  for  breath.  In  an  instant 
the  iron  pear  had  slipped  between  his  teeth  and  had 
opened  its  relentless  leaves,  obedient  to  the  screw. 

"  Take  the  pillow  away,"  said  Aristarchi  quietly. 
"  "We  can  say  good-bye  to  your  old  acquaintance 
now,  but  he  will  have  to  content  himself  with  nodding 
his  head  in  a  friendly  way." 

He  turned  the  helpless  man  upon  his  side,  for 
owing  to  the  position  of  his  heels  and  hands  Con- 
tarini  .could  not  lie  on  his  back.  Then  Aristarchi 
set  the  candle  on  the  floor  near  his  face  and  looked 
at  him  and  indulged  himself  in  a  low  laugh.  Con- 
tarini's  face  was  deep  red  with  rage  and  suffocation, 
and  his  beautiful  brown  eyes  were  starting  '  from 
their  sockets  with  a  terror  which  increased  when 
he  saw  for  the  first  time  the  man  with  whom  he  had 
to  deal,  or  rather  who  was  about  to  deal  with  him, 
and  most  probably  without  mercy.  Then  he  caught 
sight  of  Arisa,  smiling  at  him,  but  not  as  she  had 
been  wont  to  smile.  Aristarchi  spoke  at  last,  in  an 
easy,  reassuring  tone. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  going  to  hurt  you 
any  more.  You  may  think  it  strange,  but  I  really 
shall  not  kill  you.  Arisa  and  I  have  loved  each  other 
for  a  long  time,  and  since  she  has  lived  here,  I  have 
come  to  her  almost  every  night.  I  know  your  house 
almost  as  well  as  you  do,  and  you  have  kindly  told 
me  that  your  friends  are  all  locked  in.  We  shall 
therefore  not  have  the  trouble  of  leaving  by  the 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  42& 

window,  since  we  can  go  out  by  the  front  door,  where 
my  boat  will  be  waiting  for  us.  You  will  never  see 
us  again." 

Contarini's  eyes  rolled  wildly,  and  still  Arisa  smiled. 

"  You  have  made  him  suffer,"  she  said.  "  He  loved 
me." 

"Before  we  go,"  continued  the  Greek,  folding  his 
arms  and  looking  down  upon  his  miserable  enemy,  "  I 
think  it  fair  to  warn  you  that  under  the  praying-stool 
in  Arisa's  room  there  is  an  air  shaft  through  which  we 
have  heard  all  your  conversation,  during  these  secret 
meetings  of  yours.  If  you  try  to  pursue  us,  I  shall 
send  information  to  the  Ten,  which  will  cut  off  most 
of  your  heads.  As  they  are  so  empty  it  might  seem 
to  be  scarcely  worth  while  to  take  them,  but  the  Ten 
know  best.  I  can  rely  on  your  discretion.  If  I  were 
not  sure  of  it  I  would  accede  to  this  dear  lady's  urgent 
request  and  cut  you  up  into  small  pieces." 

Contarini  writhed  and  sputtered,  but  could  make  no 
sound. 

"  I  promised  not  to  hurt  you  any  more,  my  friend, 
and  I  am  a  man  of  my  word.  But  I  have  long  ad- 
mired your  hair  and  beard.  You  see  I  was  in  Saint 
Mark's  when  you  went  there  to  meet  the  glass-maker's 
daughter,  and  I  have  seen  you  at  other  times.  I  should 
be  sorry  never  to  see  such  a  beautiful  beard  again,  so  I 
mean  to  take  it  with  me,  and  if  you  will  keep  quiet,  I 
shall  really  not  hurt  you." 

Thereupon  he  produced  from  his  doublet  a  bright 
pair  of  shears,  and  knelt  down  by  the  wretched  man's 


430  MARIETTA 

head.  Contarini  twisted  himself  as  he  might  and  tried 
instinctively  to  draw  his  head  away. 

"I  have  heard  that  pirates  sometimes  accidentally 
cut  off  a  prisoner's  ear,"  said  Aristarchi.  "  If  you  will 
not  move,  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  shall  not  be  so  awk- 
ward as  to  do  that." 

Contarini  now  lay  motionless,  and  Aristarchi  went 
to  work.  With  the  utmost  neatness  he  cropped  off 
the  silky  hair,  so  close  to  Jacopo's  skull  that  it  almost 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  shaved  with  a  razor.  In  the 
same  way  he  clipped  the  splendid  beard  away,  and 
even  the  brown  eyebrows,  till  there  was  not  a  hair  left 
on  Contarini's  head  or  face.  Then  he  contemplated 
his  work,  and  laughed  at  the  weak  jaw  and  the  woman- 
ish mouth. 

"  You  look  like  an  ugly  woman  in  man's  clothes,"  he 
said,  by  way  of  consoling  his  victim. 

He  rose  now,  for  he  feared  lest  Contarini's  friends 
might  break  open  the  door  downstairs.  He  shouldered 
the  heavy  bundle  with  ease,  set  his  blue  cap  on  the 
back  of  his  head  and  bade  Arisa  go  with  him.  She 
had  her  mantle  ready,  but  she  could  not  resist  casting 
delighted  glances  at  her  late  owner's  face.  Before 
going,  she  knelt  down  one  moment  by  his  side,  and 
inclined  her  face  to  his,  with  a  very  loving  gaze. 
Lower  and  lower  she  bent,  as  if  she  would  give  him 
a  parting  kiss,  till  Aristarchi  uttered  an  exclamation. 
Then  she  laughed  cruelly,  and  with  the  back  of  her 
hand  struck  the  lips  that  had  so  often  touched  her 
own. 


A  MAID   OP   VENICE  431 

A  few  moments  later  Aristarchi  had  placed  her  in 
his  boat,  the  heavy  bundle  of  spoils  lay  at  her  feet,  and 
the  craft  shot  swiftly  from  the  door  of  the  house  of  the 
Agnus  Dei.  For  Michael  Pandos,  the  mate,  had  been 
waiting  under  the  window,  and  a  stroke  of  the  oars 
brought  him  to  the  steps. 

In  the  closed  room  where  the  friends  were  playing 
dice,  there  began  to  be  some  astonishment  at  the  time 
needed  by  Jacopo  to  replenish  his  purse.  When  more 
than  half  an  hour  had  passed  one  pair  stopped  play- 
ing, and  then  another,  until  they  were  all  listening 
for  some  sound  in  the  silent  house.  The  perfect  still- 
ness had  something  alarming  in  it,  and  none  of  them 
fully  trusted  Contarini. 

"  I  think,"  said  Venier  with  all  his  habitual  indolence, 
"that  it  j*  time  to  ascertain  the  colour  of  the  lady's  hair. 
Can  you  break  the  lock?  " 

He  spoke  to  Foscari,  who  nodded  and  went  to  the 
door  with  two  or  three  others.  In  a  few  seconds  it 
flew  open  before  their  combined  attack,  and  they 
almost  lost  their  balance  as  they  staggered  out  into 
the  dark  hall.  The  rest  brought  lights  and  they  all 
began  to  go  up  the  stairs  together.  The  first  to  enter 
the  room  was  Foscari.  Venier,  always  indifferent,  was 
among  the  last. 

Foscari  started  at  the  extraordinary  sight  of  a  man  in 
magnificent  clothes,  lying  on  one  shoulder,  with  his 
heels  tied  up  to  his  hands  and  his  shorn  head  and 
face  moving  slowly  from  side  to  side  in  the  bright 
light  of  the  wax  candle  that  stood  on  the  floor.  The 


432  MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF  VENICE 

other  men  crowded  into  the  room,  but  at  first  no 
one  recognised  the  master  of  the  house.  Then  all 
at  once  Foscari  saw  the  rings  on  his  fingers. 

"It  is  Contarini,"  he  cried,  "and  somebody  has 
shaved  his  head !  " 

He  burst  into  a  fit  of  uncontrollable  laughter,  in 
which  the  others  joined,  till  the  house  rang  again,  and 
the  banished  servants  came  running  down  to  see  what 
was  the  matter. 

Only  Zuan  Venier,  a  compassionate  smile  on  his  face, 
knelt  beside  Contarini  and  carefully  withdrew  the  iron 
gag  from  his  mouth. 

At  the  same  instant  Aristarchi's  hatchet  chopped 
through  the  hawser  by  which  his  vessel  was  riding, 
and  he  took  the  helm  himself  to  steer  her  out  through 
the  narrow  channel  before  the  wind. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

WHEN  Pasquale  had  let  Zorzi  in,  he  crossed  the 
canal  again,  moored  the  skiff  with  lock  and  chain,  and 
came  back  by  the  wooden  bridge.  Zorzi  went  on 
through  the  corridor  and  came  out  into  the  moonlit 
garden.  It  was  hard  to  believe  that  only  forty-eight 
hours  had  passed  since  he  had  left  it,  but  the  freshly 
dug  earth  told  him  of  Giovanni's  search,  about  which 
Pasquale  had  told  him,  and  there  was  the  pleasant  cer- 
tainty that  the  master  had  come  home  and  could  prob- 
ably protect  him,  even  against  the  Ten.  Besides  this, 
he  felt  stronger  and  more  able  to  move  than  since  he 
had  been  injured,  and  he  was  sure  that  he  could  now 
walk  with  only  a  stick  to  help  him,  though  he  was 
always  to  be  lame.  He  had  looked  up  at  Marietta's 
window  before  leaving  the  boat,  but  it  was  dark,  for 
Pasquale  had  wished  to  be  sure  that  no  one  should  see 
Zorzi  and  it  was  long  past  the  young  girl's  bedtime. 

Pasquale  came  back,  and  produced  some  more  bread 
and  cheese  from  his  lodge,  for  both  men  were  hungry. 
They  sat  down  on  the  bench  under  the  plane-tree  and 
ate  their  meagre  supper  together  in  silence,  for  they 
had  talked  much  during  the  long  day.  Then  Pasquale 
bade  Zorzi  good  night  and  went  away,  and  Zorzi 
went  into  the  laboratory,  where  all  was  dark. 
2p  433 


434  MAEIETTA 

But  he  knew  every  brick  of  the  furnace  and  every 
stone  of  the  pavement  under  his  feet,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  was  fast  asleep  in  his  own  bed,  feeling 
as  safe  as  if  the  Ten  had  never  existed  and  as  though 
the  Signers  of  the  Night  were  not  searching  every 
purlieu  of  Venice  to  take  him  into  custody.  And  early 
in  the  morning  he  got  up,  and  Pasquale  brought  him 
water  as  of  old,  and  as  his  hose  and  doublet  had 
suffered  considerably  during  his  adventures,  he  put  on 
the  Sunday  ones  and  came  out  into  the  garden  to 
breathe  the  morning  air.  Pasquale  had  no  intention  of 
going  over  to  the  house  to  announce  Zorzi's  return,  for 
he  was  firmly  convinced  that  the  most  simple  way  of 
keeping  a  secret  was  not  to  tell  it,  and  before  long  the 
master  would  probably  come  over  himself  to  ask  for 
news. 

Beroviero  brought  Marietta  with  him,  as  he  often 
did,  and  when  they  were  within  he  naturally  stopped 
to  question  Pasquale  about  his  search,  while  Marietta 
went  on  to  the  garden.  The  porter  took  a  long  time 
to  shut  the  door,  and  instead  of  answering  Beroviero, 
shook  his  ugly  head  discontentedly,  and  muttered 
imprecations  on  all  makers  of  locks,  latches,  bolts,  bars 
and  other  fastenings,  living,  dead  and  yet  unborn.  So 
it  came  to  pass  that  Marietta  came  upon  Zorzi  suddenly 
and  alone,  when  she  least  expected  to  meet  him. 

He  was  standing  by  the  well-remembered  rose-bush, 
leaning  on  his  stick  with  one  hand  and  lifting  up  a 
trailing  branch  with  the  other.  But  when  he  heard 
Marietta's  step  he  let  the  branch  drop  again  and  stood 


A  MAID  OF   VENICE  435 

waiting  for  her  with  happy  eyes.  She  uttered  a  little 
cry,  that  was  almost  of  fear,  and  stopped  short  in  her 
walk,  for  in  the  first  instant  she  could  have  believed 
that  she  saw  a  vision  ;  then  she  ran  forward  with  out- 
stretched hands,  and  fell  into  his  arms  as  he  dropped 
his  stick  to  catch  her.  As  her  head  touched  his 
shoulder,  her  heart  stopped  beating  for  a  moment,  she 
gasped  a  little,  and  seemed  to  choke,  and  then  the 
tears  of  joy  flowed  from  her  eyes,  her  pulses  stirred 
again,  and  allwas  well.  He  felt  a  tremor  in  his  hands 
and  could  not  speak  aloud,  but  as  he  held  her  he  bent 
down  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear ;  and  she 
smiled  through  the  shower  of  her  happy  tears,  though 
he  could  not  see  it,  for  her  face  was  hidden. 

Just  then  Beroviero  entered  from  the  corridor,  fol- 
lowed by  Pasquale,  and  the  two  old  men  stood  still 
together  gazing  at  the  young  lovers.  It  was  on  that 
very  spot  that  the  master,  when  going  upon  his  jour- 
ney, had  told  Zorzi  how  he  wished  he  were  his  son. 
But  now  he  forgot  that  he  had  said  it,  and  the  angry 
blood  rushed  to  his  forehead. 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  he  cried,  as  he  made  a  step  to  go 
on  towards  the  pair. 

They  heard  his  voice  and  separated  hastily.  Mari- 
etta's fresh  cheek  blushed  like  red  roses,  and  she 
looked  down,  as  shamefacedly  as  any  country  maid,  but 
Zorzi  turned  white  as  he  stooped  to  pick  up  his  stick, 
then  stood  quite  upright  and  met  her  father's  eyes. 

"How  dare  you,  I  say?"  repeated  the  old  man 
fiercely. 


436  MARIETTA 

"  I  love  her,  sir,"  Zorzi  answered  without  fear  for 
himself,  but  with  much  apprehension  for  Marietta. 

"And  have  you  forgotten  that  I  love  him,  father?  ' 
asked  Marietta,  looking  up  but  still  blushing.     "  You 
know,  I  told  you  all  the  truth,  and  you  were  not  angry 
then.     At  least,  you   were   not  so  very  angry,"   she 
added,  shyly  correcting  herself. 

"If  she  has  told  you,  sir,"  Zorzi  began,  "let 
me — " 

"You  can  tell  me  nothing  I  do  not  know,"  cried 
Beroviero,  "  and  nothing  I  wish  to  hear !  Be  off  ! 
Go  to  the  laboratory  and  begin  work.  I  will  speak 
with  my  daughter." 

Then  Pasquale's  voice  was  heard. 

*  A  furnace  without  a  fire  is  like  a  ship  without  a 
winci,"  he  said.  "It  might  as  well  be  anything  else.'5 

Beroviero  looked  towards  the  old  porter  indignantly, 
but  Pasquale  had  already  begun  to  move  and  was 
returning  to  his  lodge,  uttering  strange  and  unearthly 
sounds  as  he  went,  for  he  was  so  ha^py  that  he  was 
really  trying  to  hum  a  tune.  The  master  turned  to 
the  lovers  again.  Zorzi  had  withdrawn  a  step  or  two, 
but  showed  no  signs  of  going  further. 

"  If  you  are  going  to  tell  me  that  I  must  change  my 
mind,"  said  Marietta,  "  and  that  it  is  a  shame  to  love  a 
penniless  glass-blower  —  " 

"  Silence !  "  cried  the  old  man,  stroking  his  beard 
fiercely.  "  How  can  you  presume  to  guess  what  I  may 
or  may  not  say  about  your  shameless  conduct?  Did 
I  not  see  him  kissing  you?  " 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  437 

"  I  daresay,  for  he  did,"  answered  Marietta,  raising 
her  eyebrows  and  looking  down  in  a  resigned  way. 
"And  it  is  not  the  first  time,  either,"  she  added, 
shaking  her  head  and  almost  laughing. 

"  The  insolence  !  "  cried  Beroviero.  "  The  atrocious 
boldness  I  " 

14 Sir,"  said  Zorzi,  coming  nearer,  "there  is  only 
one  remedy  for  it.  Give  me  your  daughter  for  my 
wife  —  " 

"  Upon  my  faith,  this  is  too  much !  You  know 
that  Marietta  is  betrothed  to  Messer  Jacopo  Conta- 
rim—- " 

44 1  have  told  you  that  I  will  not  marry  him,"  said 
Marietta  quietly,  "  so  it  is  just  as  if  I  had  never  been 
betrothed  to  him." 

44  That  is  no  reason  for  marrying  Zorzi,"  retorted 
Beroviero.  "  A  pretty  match  for  you  I  Angelo  Bero- 
viero's  daughter  and  a  penniless  foreigner  who  cannot 
even  be  allowed  to  work  openly  at  his  art !  " 

44 If  I  go  away,"  Zorzi  answered  quietly, "I  may  soon 
be  as  rich  as  you,  sir." 

At  this  unexpected  statement  Beroviero  opened  his 
eyes  in  real  astonishment,  while  Zorzi  continued. 

44  You  have  your  secrets,  sir,  and  I  have  kept  them 
safe  for  you.  But  I  have  one  of  my  own  which  is  as 
valuable  as  any  of  yours.  Did  you  find  some  pieces  of 
my  work  in  the  annealing  oven?  I  see  that  they  are 
on  the  table  now.  Did  you  notice  that  the  glass  is 
like  yours,  but  finer  and  lighter?" 

44 Well,  if  it  is,  what  then?"  asked  Beroviero.     "It 


438  MARIETTA 

was  an  accident.  You  mixed  something  with  some  of 
my  glass  —  " 

"  No,"  answered  Zorzi,  "  it  is  altogether  a  com- 
position of  my  own.  I  do  not  know  how  you  mix  your 
materials.  How  should  I?  " 

"  I  believe  you  do,"  said  Beroviero.  "  I  believe  you 
have  found  it  out  in  some  way  —  " 

Zorzi  had  produced  a  piece  of  folded  paper  from  his 
doublet,  and  now  held  it  up  in  his  hand. 

"I  am  not  bargaining  with  you,  sir,  for  you  are  a 
man  of  honour.  Angelo  Beroviero  will  not  rob  me, 
after  having  been  kind  to  me  for  so  many  years.  This 
is  my  secret,  which  I  discovered  alone,  with  no  one's 
help.  The  quantities  are  written  out  very  exactly,  and 
I  am  sure  of  them.  Read  what  is  written  there.  By 
an  accident,  I  may  have  made  something  like  your  glass, 
but  I  do  not  believe  it." 

He  held  out  the  paper.    Beroviero's  manner  changed. 

"You  were  always  an  honourable  fellow,  Zorzi.  I 
thank  you." 

He  opened  the  paper  and  looked  attentively  at  the 
contents.  Marietta  saw  his  surprise  and  interest  and 
took  the  opportunity  of  smiling  at  Zorzi. 

"  It  is  altogether  different  from  mine,"  said  Beroviero, 
looking  up  and  handing  back  the  document. 

"  Is  there  fortune  in  that,  sir,  or  not  ?  "  asked  Zorzi, 
confident  of  the  reply.  "  But  you  know  that  there  is, 
and  that  wherever  I  go,  if  I  can  get  a  furnace,  I  shall 
soon  be  a  rich  man  by  the  glass  alone,  without  even 
counting  on  such  skill  as  I  have  with  my  hands." 


A   MAID   OF    VENICE  439 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  the  master,  nodding  his  head 
thoughtfully.  "There  are  many  princes  who  would 
willingly  give  you  the  little  you  need  in  order  to  make 
your  fortune." 

"  The  little  that  Venice  refuses  me  !  "  said  Zorzi 
with  some  bitterness.  "Am  I  presuming  so  much, 
then,  when  I  ask  you  for  your  daughter's  hand  ?  Is  it 
not  in  my  power,  or  will  it  not  be  very  soon,  to  go  to 
some  other  city,  to  Milan,  or  Florence  —  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Beroviero.  "  You  shall  not  take 
her  away  —  " 

He  stopped  short,  realising  that  he  had  betrayed 
what  had  been  in  his  mind,  since  he  had  seen  the  two 
standing  there,  clasped  in  one  another's  arms,  namely, 
that  in  spite  of  him,  or  with  his  blessing,  his  daugh- 
ter would  before  long  be  married  to  the  man  she 
loved. 

"  Come,  come  !  "  he  said  testily.  "  This  is  sheer 
nonsense  !  " 

He  made  a  step  forward  as  if  to  break  off  the  situa- 
tion by  going  away. 

"  If  you  would  rather  that  I  should  not  leave  you, 
sir,"  said  Zorzi,  "  I  will  stay  here  and  make  my  glass 
in  your  furnace,  and  you  shall  sell  it  as  if  it  were  your 
own." 

"  Yes,  father,  say  yes  !  "  cried  Marietta,  clasping  her 
hands  upon  the  old  man's  shoulder.  "You  see  how 
generous  Zorzi  is  !  " 

"  Generous  !  "  Beroviero  shook  his  head.  "  He  is 
trying  to  bribe  me,  for  there  is  a  fortune  in  his  glass* 


440  MARIETTA 

as  he  says.  He  is  offering  me  a  fortune,  I  tell  you,  to 
let  him  marry  you  !  " 

"The  fortune  which  Messer  Jacopo  had  made  you 
promise  to  pay  him  for  condescending  to  be  my 
husband  !  "  retorted  Marietta  triumphantly.  "  It  seems 
to  me  that  of  the  two,  Zorzi  is  the  better  match  !  " 

Beroviero  stared  at  her  a  moment,  bewildered. 
Then,  in  half-comic  despair  he  clapped  both  his  hands 
upon  his  ears  and  shook  himself  gently  free  from  her. 

"  Was  there  ever  a  woman  yet  who  could  not  make 
black  seem  white  ?  "  he  cried.  "  It  is  nonsense,  I  tell 
you  I  It  is  all  arrant  nonsense  !  You  are  driving  me 
out  of  my  senses  !  " 

And  thereupon  he  went  off  down  the  garden  path  to 
the  laboratory,  apparently  forgetting  that  his  presence 
alone  could  prevent  a  repetition  of  that  very  offence 
which  had  at  first  roused  his  anger.  The  door  closed 
snarply  after  him,  with  energetic  emphasis. 

At  the  same  moment  Marietta,  who  had  been  gazing 
into  Zorzi's  eyes,  felt  that  her  own  sparkled  with 
amusement,  and  her  father  might  almost  have  heard 
her  sweet  low  laugh  through  the  open  window  at  the 
other  end  of  the  garden. 

"That  was  well  done,"  she  said.  "Between  us  we 
have  almost  persuaded  him." 

Zorzi  took  her  willing  hand  and  drew  her  to  him, 
and  she  was  almost  as  near  to  him  as  before,  when  she 
straightened  herself  with  quick  and  elastic  grace,  and 
laughed  again. 

"  No,  no  1  "  she  said.     "  If  he  were  to  look  out  and 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  441 

see  us  again,  it  would  be  too  ridiculous !  Come  and 
sit  under  the  plane-tree  in  the  old  place.  Do  you 
remember  how  you  stared  at  the  trunk  and  would  not 
answer  me  when  I  tried  to  make  you  speak,  ever  so 
long  ago?  Do  you  know,  it  was  because  you  would 
not  say  —  what  I  wanted  you  to  say  —  that  I  let  my- 
self think  that  I  could  marry  Messer  Jacopo.  If  you 
had  only  known  what  you  were  doing ! " 

"  If  I  had  only  known  !  "  Zorzi  echoed,  as  they 
reached  the  place  and  Marietta  sat  down. 

They  were  within  sight  of  the  window,  but  Bero- 
viero  did  not  heed  them.  He  was  seated  in  his  own 
chair,  in  deep  thought,  his  elbows  resting  on  the 
wooden  arms,  his  fingers  pressing  his  temples  on  each 
side,  thinking  of  his  daughter,  and  perhaps  not  quite 
unaware  that  she  was  talking  to  the  only  man  he  had 
ever  really  trusted. 

"  I  must  tell  you  something,  Zorzi,"  she  was  saying, 
as  she  looked  up  into  the  face  she  loved.  "  My  father 
told  me  last  night  what  he  had  done  yesterday.  He 
saw  Messer  Zuan  Venier  —  " 

Zorzi  showed  his  surprise. 

"  Pasquale  told  my  father  that  he  had  been  here  to 
see  you.  Very  well,  this  Messer  Zuan  advised  that  if 
you  could  be  found,  you  should  be  persuaded  to  gc 
before  the  tribunal  of  the  Ten  of  your  own  free  will, 
to  tell  your  story.  And  he  promised  to  use  all  his 
influence  and  that  of  all  his  friends  in  your  favour." 

"  They  will  not  change  the  law  for  me,"  Zorzi  re- 
plied, in  a  hopeless  way. 


442  MARIETTA 

"  If  they  could  hear  you,  they  would  make  a  special 
decree,"  said  Marietta.  "You  could  tell  them  your 
story,  you  could  even  show  them  some  of  the  beautiful 
things  you  have  made.  They  would  understand  that 
you  are  a  great  artist.  After  all,  my  father  says  that 
one  of  their  most  especial  duties  is  to  deal  with  every- 
thing that  concerns  Murano  and  the  glass-works.  Do 
you  think  that  they  will  banish  you,  now  that  you 
have  a  secret  of  your  own,  and  can  injure  us  all  by 
setting  up  a  furnace  somewhere  else  ?  There  is  no 
sense  in  that  I  And  if  you  go  of  your  own  free  will, 
they  will  hear  you  kindly,  I  think.  But  if  you  stay 
here,  they  will  find  you  in  the  end,  and  they  will  be 
very  angry  then,  because  you  will  have  been  hiding 
from  them." 

"You  are  wise,"  Zorzi  answered.  "You  are  very 
wise." 

"No.     I  love  you." 

She  spoke  softly  and  glanced  at  the  open  window, 
and  then  at  his  face. 

"Truly?" 

He  smiled  happily  as  he  whispered  his  question  in 
one  word,  and  he  was  resting  a  hand  on  the  trunk  of 
the  tree,  just  as  he  had  been  standing  on  the  day  she 
remembered  so  well. 

"  Ah,  you  know  it  now  I  "  she  answered,  with  bright 
and  trusting  eyes. 

"  One  may  know  a  song  well,  and  yet  long  to  hear 
it  again  and  again." 

"  But  one  cannot  be  always  singing  it  oneself,"  she 
said. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  443 

"I  could  never  make  it  ring  as  sweetly  as  you," 
Zorzi  answered. 

"  Try  it !     I  am  tired  of  hearing  my  voice  —  " 

"  But  I  am  not !  There  is  no  voice  like  it  in  the 
world.  I  shall  never  care  to  hear  another,  as  long  as  I 
live,  nor  any  other  song,  nor  any  other  words.  And 
when  you  are  weary  of  saying  them,  I  shall  just  say 
them  over  in  my  heart,  '  She  loves  me,  she  loves  me,' 
—  all  day  long." 

"  Which  is  better,"  Marietta  asked,  "  to  love,  or  to 
know  that  you  are  loved?" 

"The  two  thoughts  are  like  soul  and  body,"  Zorzi 
answered.  "You  must  not  part  them." 

"I  never  have,  since  I  have  known  the  truth,  and 
never  shall  again." 

Then  they  were  silent  for  a  while,  but  they  hardly 
knew  it,  for  the  world  was  full  of  the  sweetest  music 
they  had  ever  heard,  and  they  listened  together. 

"  Zorzi !  " 

The  master  was  at  the  window,  calling  him.  He 
started  a  little  as  if  awaking  and  obeyed  the  summons 
as  quickly  as  his  lameness  would  allow.  Marietta 
looked  after  him,  watching  his  halting  gait,  and  the 
little  effort  he  made  with  his  stick  at  each  step.  For 
some  secret  reason  the  injury  had  made  him  more  dear 
to  her,  and  she  liked  to  remember  how  brave  he  had 
been. 

He  found  Beroviero  busy  with  his  papers,  and  the 
results  of  the  year's  experiments,  and  the  old  man  at 
once  spoke  to  him  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened, 


444  MARIETTA 

telling  him  what  to  do  from  time  to  time,  so  that  all 
might  be  put  in  order  against  the  time  when  the  fires 
should  be  lighted  again  in  September.  By  and  by  two 
men  came  carrying  a  new  earthen  jar  for  broken  glass, 
and  all  fragments  in  which  the  box  had  lain  were 
shovelled  into  it,  and  the  pieces  of  the  old  one  were 
taken  away.  The  furnace  was  not  quite  cool  even  yet, 
and  the  crucibles  might  remain  where  they  were  for  a 
few  days;  but  there  was  much  to  be  done,  and  Zorzi 
was  kept  at  work  all  the  morning,  while  Marietta  sat 
in  the  shade  with  her  work,  often  looking  towards  the 
window  and  sometimes  catching  sight  of  Zorzi  as  he 
moved  about  within. 

Meanwhile  the  story  of  Contarini's  mishap  had 
spread  in  Venice  like  wildfire,  and  before  noon  there 
was  hardly  one  of  all  his  many  relations  and  friends 
who  had  not  heard  it.  The  tale  ran  through  the  town, 
told  by  high  and  low,  by  Jacopo's  own  trusted  servant, 
and  the  old  woman  who  had  waited  on  Arisa,  and  it 
had  reached  the  market-place  at  an  early  hour,  so  that 
the  ballad-makers  were  busy  with  it.  For  many  had 
known  of  the  existence  of  the  beautiful  Georgian  slave 
and  the  subject  was  a  good  one  for  a  song  —  how  she 
had  caressed  him  to  sleep  and  fostered  his  foolish  se- 
curity while  he  loved  her  blindly,  and  how  she  and  her 
mysterious  lover  had  bound  him  and  shaved  his  head 
and  face  and  made  him  a  laughing-stock,  so  that  he 
must  hide  himself  from  the  world  for  months,  and 
moreover  how  they  had  carried  away  by  night  all  the 
precious  gifts  he  had  heaped  upon  the  woman  since  he 
had  bought  her  in  the  slave-market. 


A  MAID  OF  VENICE  445 

Last  of  all,  his  father  heard  it  when  he  came  home 
about  an  hour  before  noon  from  the  sitting  of  the 
Council  of  Ten,  of  which  he  was  a  member  for  that 
year.  He  found  Zuan  Venier  waiting  in  the  hall  of 
his  house,  and  the  two  remained  closeted  together  for 
some  time.  For  the  young  man  had  promised  Jacopo 
to  tell  old  Contarini,  though  it  was  an  ungrateful 
errand,  and  one  which  the  latter  might  remember 
against  him.  But  it  was  a  kind  action,  and  Venier 
performed  it  as  well  as  he  could,  telling  the  story 
truthfully,  but  leaving  out  all  such  useless  details  as 
might  increase  the  father's  anger. 

At  first  indeed  the  old  man  brought  his  hand  down 
heavily  upon  the  table,  and  swore  that  he  would  never 
see  his  son  again,  that  he  would  propose  to  the  Ten  to 
banish  him  from  Venice,  that  he  would  disinherit  him 
and  let  him  starve  as  he  deserved,  and  much  more  to 
the  same  effect.  But  Venier  entreated  him,  for  his 
own  dignity's  sake,  to  do  none  of  these  things,  but  to 
send  Jacopo  to  his  villa  on  the  Brenta  river,  where  he 
might  devote  himself  in  seclusion  to  growing  his  hair 
and  beard  again  ;  and  Zuau  represented  that  if  he  re- 
appeared in  Venice  after  many  months,  not  very  greatly 
changed,  the  adventure  would  be  so  far  forgotten  that 
his  life  among  his  friends  would  be  at  least  bearable, 
in  spite  of  the  ridicule  to  which  he  would  now  and 
then  be  exposed  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  whenever  any 
one  chose  out  of  spite  to  mention  barbers,  shears,  razors, 
specifics  for  causing  the  hair  to  grow,  or  Georgians,  in 
his  presence.  Further,  Venier  ventured  to  suggest  to 


446  MARIETTA 

Contarini  that  he  should  at  once  break  off  the  marriage 
arranged  with  Beroviero,  rather  than  expose  himself 
to  the  inevitable  indignity  of  letting  the  step  be  taken 
by  the  glass-maker,  who,  said  Venier,  would  as  soon 
think  of  giving  his  daughter  to  a  Turk  as  to  Jacopo, 
since  the  latter's  graceless  doings  had  been  suddenly 
held  up  to  the  light  as  the  laughing-stock  of  all  Venice. 

In  making  this  suggestion  Venier  had  followed  the 
suggestion  of  his  own  good  sense  and  good  feeling, 
and  Contarini  not  only  accepted  the  proposal  but  was 
in  the  utmost  haste  to  act  upon  it,  fearing  lest  at  any 
moment  a  messenger  might  come  over  from  Murano 
with  the  news  that  Beroviero  withdrew  his  consent  to 
the  marriage.  Venier  almost  dictated  the  letter  which 
Contarini  wrote  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  he  prom- 
ised to  deliver  it  himself,  and  if  necessary  to  act  as 
ambassador. 

Beroviero  had  already  called  to  Marietta  that  it  was 
time  to  go  home,  though  the  mid-day  bells  had  not  yet 
rung  out  the  hour,  when  Pasquale  appeared  in  the 
garden  and  announced  that  Venier  was  waiting  in  his 
gondola  and  desired  an  immediate  interview  on  a  mat- 
ter of  importance. 

He  would  have  come  on  Contarini's  behalf,  if  for 
no  other  reason,  but  he  had  spent  much  time  that 
morning  in  laying  Zorzi's  case  before  his  friends  and 
all  the  members  of  the  Grand  Council  who  could  have 
any  special  influence  with  the  Ten,  or  with  the  aged 
Doge,  who,  although  in  his  eightieth  year,  frequently 
assisted  in  person  at  their  meetings,  and  whose  Coun- 


A   MAID   OF  VENICE  447 

sellers  were  always  present.  He  was  now  almost  sure 
of  obtaining  a  favourable  hearing  for  Zorzi,  and  wished 
to  see  Beroviero,  for  he  was  still  in  ignorance  of  Zorzi's 
return  to  the  glass-house  during  the  night. 

Marietta  was  told  to  go  into  the  deserted  building, 
containing  the  main  furnaces,  now  extinguished,  for  it 
was  not  fitting  that  she  should  be  seen  by  a  patrician 
whom  she  did  not  know,  sitting  in  the  garden  as  if  she 
were  a  mere  serving-woman  whose  face  needed  no  veil. 
She  ran  away  laughing  and  hid  herself  in  the  passage 
where  she  had  spent  moments  of  anguish  on  the  night 
of  Zorzi's  arrest,  and  she  waved  a  kiss  to  him,  when 
her  father  was  not  watching. 

Zorzi  waited  at  the  door  of  the  laboratory,  while  Be- 
roviero waited  within,  standing  by  the  table  to  receive 
his  honourable  visitor.  When  Zorzi  saw  Venier 's 
expression  of  astonishment  on  seeing  him,  he  smiled 
quietly,  but  offered  no  audible  greeting,  for  he  did  not 
know  what  was  expected  of  him.  But  Venier  took  his 
hand  frankly  and  held  it  a  moment. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  here,"  he  said,  less  indolently 
than  he  usually  spoke.  "  I  have  good  news  for  you,  if 
you  will  take  my  advice." 

"  The  master  has  already  told  me  what  it  is,"  Zorzi 
answered.  "  I  am  ready  to  give  myself  up  whenever 
you  think  best.  I  have  not  words  to  thank  you." 

"  I  do  not  like  many  words,"  answered  Venier. 
"  But  if  there  is  anything  I  dislike  more,  it  is  thanks. 
I  have  some  private  business  with  Messer  Angelo  first. 
Afterwards  we  can  all  three  talk  together." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ZORZI  sat  on  a  low  bench,  blackened  with  age, 
igainst  the  whitewashed  wall  of  a  small  and  dimly 
lighted  room,  which  was  little  more  than  a  cell,  but 
was  in  reality  the  place  where  prisoners  waited  imme- 
diately before  being  taken  into  the  presence  of  the  Ten. 
It  was  not  far  from  the  dreaded  chamber  in  which  the 
three  Chiefs  sometimes  heard  evidence  given  undet 
torture,  the  door  was  closed  and  two  guards  paced  the 
narrow  corridor  outside  with  regular  and  heavy  steps, 
to  which  Zorzi  listened  with  a  beating  heart.  He  was 
not  afraid,  for  he  was  not  easily  frightened,  but  he 
knew  that  his  whole  future  life  was  in  the  balance,  and 
he  longed  for  the  decisive  moment  to  come.  He  had 
surrendered  on  the  previous  day,  and  Beroviero  had 
given  a  large  bond  for  his  appearance. 

There  were  witnesses  of  all  that  had  happened. 
There  was  the  lieutenant  of  the  archers,  with  his  six 
men,  some  of  whom  still  showed  traces  of  their  mis- 
adventure. There  was  Giovanni,  whom  the  Governor 
had  forced  to  appear,  much  against  his  will,  as  the 
principal  accuser  by  the  letter  which  had  led  to  Zorzi's 
arrest,  and  the  letter  itself  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
Council's  secretary.  But  there  was  also  Pasquale,  who 

448 


MARIETTA,    A   MAID   OF   VENICE  449 

had  seen  Zorzi  go  away  quietly  with  the  soldiers,  and 
who  could  speak  for  his  character  ;  and  Angelo  Bero- 
viero  was  there  to  tell  the  truth  as  far  as  he  knew  it. 

But  Zorzi  was  not  to  be  confronted  with  any  of  these 
witnesses  :  neither  with  the  soldiers  who  would  tell  the 
Council  strange  stories  of  devils  with  blue  noses  and 
fiery  tails,  nor  with  Giovanni,  whose  letter  called  him 
a  liar,  a  thief  and  an  assassin,  nor  with  Beroviero  nor 
Pasquale.  The  Council  never  allowed  the  accused 
man  and  the  witnesses  for  or  against  him  to  be  before 
them  at  the  same  time,  nor  to  hold  any  communication 
while  the  trial  lasted.  That  was  a  rule  of  their  pro- 
cedure, but  they  were  not  by  any  means  the  mysterious 
body  of  malign  monsters  which  they  have  too  often 
been  represented  to  be,  in  an  age  when  no  criminal 
trials  could  take  place  without  torture. 

Zorzi  waited  on  his  bench,  listening  to  the  tread  .of 
the  guards.  As  many  trials  occupied  more  than  one 
day,  his  case  would  come  up  last  of  all,  and  the  wit- 
nesses would  all  be  examined  before  he  himself  was 
called  to  make  his  defence.  He  was  nervous  and  anx- 
ious. Even  while  he  was  sitting  there,  Giovanni  might 
be  finding  out  some  new  accusation  against  him  or  the 
officer  of  archers  might  be  accusing  him  of  witchcraft 
and  of  having  a  compact  with  the  devil  himself.  He 
was  innocent,  but  he  had  broken  the  law,  and  no  doubt 
many  an  innocent  man  had  sat  on  that  same  bench  be- 
fore him,  who  had  never  again  returned  to  his  home. 
It  was  not  strange  that  his  lips  should  be  parched,  and 
that  his  heart  should  be  beating  like  a  fuller's  hammer. 

2G 


450  MARIETTA 

At  last  the  footsteps  ceased,  the  key  ground  and 
creaked  as  it  turned,  and  the  door  was  opened.  Two 
tall  guards  stood  looking  at  him,  and  one  of  them  mo- 
tioned to  him  to  come.  He  could  never  afterwards 
remember  the  place  through  which  he  was  made  to 
pass,  for  the  blood  was  throbbing  in  his  temples  so 
that  he  could  hardly  see.  A  door  was  opened  and 
closed  after  him,  and  he  was  suddenly  standing  alone 
in  the  presence  of  the  Ten,  feeling  that  he  could  not 
find  a  word  to  say  if  he  were  called  upon  to  speak. 

A  kindly  voice  broke  the  silence  that  seemed  to 
have  lasted  many  minutes. 

"Is  this  the  person  whom  we  are  told  is  in  league 
with  Satan  ?  " 

It  was  the  Doge  himself  who  spoke,  nodding  his 
hoary  head,  as  very  old  men  do,  and  looking  at  Zorzi's 
fa^e  with  gentle  eyes,  almost  colourless  from  extreme 
age. 

"  This  is  the  accused,  your  Highness,"  replied  the 
secretary  from  his  desk,  already  holding  in  his  hand 
Giovanni's  letter. 

Zorzi  saw  that  the  Council  of  Ten  was  much  more 
numerous  than  its  name  implied.  The  Councillors 
were  between  twenty  and  thirty,  sitting  in  a  semi- 
circle, against  a  carved  wooden  wainscot,  on  each  side 
of  the  aged  Doge,  Cristoforo  Moro,  who  had  yet  one 
more  year  to  live.  There  were  other  persons  present 
also,  of  whom  one  was  the  secretary,  the  rest  being 
apparently  there  to  listen  to  the  proceedings  and  to 
give  advice  when  they  were  called  upon  to  do  so. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  451 

In  spite  of  the  time  of  year,  the  Councillors  were  all 
splendidly  robed  in  the  red  velvet  mantles,  edged  with 
ermine,  and  the  velvet  caps  which  made  up  the  state 
dress  of  all  patricians  alike,  and  the  Doge  wore  his 
peculiar  cap  and  coronet  of  office.  Zorzi  had  never 
seen  such  an  assembly  of  imposing  and  venerable  men, 
some  with  long  grey  beards,  some  close  shaven,  all 
grave,  all  thoughtful,  all  watching  him  with  quietly 
scrutinising  eyes.  He  stood  leaning  a  little  on  his 
stick,  and  he  breathed  more  freely  since  the  dreaded 
moment  was  come  at  last. 

Some  one  bade  the  secretary  read  the  accusation, 
and  Zorzi  listened  with  wonder  and  disgust  to  Gio- 
vanni's long  epistle,  mentally  noting  the  points  which 
he  might  answer,  and  realising  that  if  the  law  was 
to  be  interpreted  literally,  he  had  undoubtedly  ren- 
dered himself  liable  to  some  penalty. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  ? "  inquired  the  secretary, 
looking  up  from  the  paper  with  a  pair  of  small  and 
piercing  grey  eyes.  "  The  Supreme  Council  will  hear 
your  defence." 

"  I  can  tell  the  truth,"  said  Zorzi  simply,  and  when 
he  had  spoken  the  words  he  was  surprised  that  his 
voice  had  not  trembled. 

"That  is  all  the  Supreme  Council  wishes  to  hear," 
answered  the  secretary.  "Speak  on." 

"  It  is  true  that  I  am  a  Dalmatian,"  Zorzi  said,  "  and 
by  the  laws  of  Venice,  I  should  not  have  learned  the 
art  of  glass-blowing.  I  came  to  Murano  more  than 
five  years  ago,  being  very  poor,  and  Messer  Angelo 


452  MARIETTA 

Beroviero  took  me  in,  and  let  me  take  care  of  his  pri- 
vate furnace,  at  which  he  makes  many  experiments. 
In  time,  he  trusted  me,  and  when  he  wished  something 
made,  to  try  the  nature  of  the  glass,  he  let  me  make  it, 
but  not  to  sell  such  things.  At  first  they  were  badly 
made,  but  I  loved  the  art,  and  in  short  time  I  grew  to 
be  skilful  at  it.  So  I  learnt.  Sirs  —  I  crave  pardon, 
your  Highness,  and  you  lords  of  the  Supreme  Council, 
that  is  all  I  have  to  tell.  I  love  the  glass,  and  I  can 
make  light  things  of  it  in  good  design,  because  I  love 
it,  as  the  painter  loves  his  colours  and  the  sculptor  his 
marble.  Give  me  glass,  and  I  will  make  coloured 
air  of  it,  and  gossamer  and  silk  and  lace.  It  is  all  I 
know,  it  is  my  art,  I  live  in  it,  T  feel  in  it,  I  dream  in 
it.  To  my  thoughts,  and  eyes  and  hands,  it  is  what 
the  love  of  a  fair  woman  is  to  the  heart.  While  I  can 
work  and  shape  the  things  I  see  when  I  close  my  eyes, 
the  sun  does  not  move,  tho  day  has  no  time,  winter  no 
clouds,  and  summer  no  heat.  When  I  am  hindered  I 
am  in  exile  and  in  prison,  and  alone." 

The  Doge  nodded  his  head  in  kindly  approbation. 
"  The  young  man  is  a  true  artist,"  he  said. 
"All   this,"   said   one   of    the   Chiefs   of    the   Ten, 
"would  be  well  if  you  were  a  Venetian.     But   you 
are  not,  and  the  accusation  says  that  you  have  sold 
your  works  to  the  injury  of  born  Venetians.     What 
have  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  my  master  has  given  me  money  for  a 
beaker,  or  a  plate,  or  a  bottle,"  answered  Zorzi,  in 
some  trepidation,  for  this  was  the  main  point,  "  But 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  453 

the  things  were  then  his  own.  How  could  that  do 
harm  to  any  one,  since  no  one  can  make  what  I  can 
make,  for  the  master's  own  use?  And  once,  the  other 
day,  as  the  Signor  Giovanni's  letter  says  there,  he  per- 
suaded me  to  take  his  piece  of  gold  for  a  beaker  he  saw 
in  my  hand,  and  I  said  that  I  would  ask  the  master, 
when  he  came  back,  whether  I  might  keep  the  money 
or  not ;  and  besides,  I  left  the  piece  of  money  on  the 
table  in  my  master's  laboratory,  and  the  beaker  in  the 
annealing  oven,  when  they  came  to  arrest  me.  That 
is  the  only  work  for  which  I  ever  took  money,  except 
from  the  master  himself." 

"Why  did  the  Greek  captain  Aristarchi  beat  the 
Governor's  men,  and  carry  you  away  ?  "  asked  another 
of  the  Chiefs. 

Zorzi  was  not  surprised  that  the  name  of  his  rescuer 
should  be  known,  for  the  Ten  were  believed  to  possess 
universal  intelligence. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered  quite  simply.  "  He 
did  not  tell  me,  while  he  kept  me  with  him.  I  had 
only  seen  him  once  before  that  night,  on  a  day  when 
he  came  to  treat  with  the  master  for  a  cargo  of  glass 
which  he  never  bought.  I  gave  myself  up  to  the 
archers,  as  I  gave  myself  up  to  your  lordships,  for  I 
thought  that  I  should  have  justice  the  sooner  if  I 
sought  it  instead  of  trying  to  escape  from  it." 

"  Your  Highness,"  said  one  of  the  oldest  Councillors, 
addressing  the  Doge,  "  is  it  not  a  pity  that  such  a  man 
as  this,  who  is  a  good  artist  and  who  speaks  the  truth, 
should  be  driven  out  of  Venice,  by  a  law  that  was  not 


454  MARIETTA 

meant  to  touch  him  ?  For  indeed,  the  law  exists  and 
always  will,  but  it  is  meant  to  hinder  strangers  from 
coming  to  Murano  and  learning  the  art  in  order  to  take 
it  away  with  them,  and  this  we  can  prevent.  But  we 
surely  desire  to  keep  here  all  those  who  know  how  to 
practise  it,  for  the  greater  advantage  of  our  commerce 
with  other  nations." 

"That  is  the  intention  of  our  laws,"  assented  the 
Doge. 

"  Your  Highness  !  My  lords  ! "  cried  Zorzi,  who 
had  taken  courage  from  what  the  Councillor  had  said, 
"  if  this  law  is  not  made  for  such  as  I  am,  I  entreat  you 
to  grant  me  your  forgiveness  if  I  have  broken  it,  and 
make  it  impossible  for  me  to  break  it  again.  My  lords, 
you  have  the  power  to  do  what  I  ask.  I  beseech  you 
that  I  may  be  permitted  to  work  at  my  art  as  if  I  were 
a  Venetian,  and  even  to  keep  fires  in  a  small  furnace  of 
my  own,  as  other  workmen  may  when  they  have  saved 
money,  that  I  may  labour  to  the  honour  of  all  glass- 
makers,  and  for  the  good  reputation  of  Murano.  This 
is  what  I  most  humbly  ask,  imploring  that  it  may  be 
granted  to  me,  but  always  according  to  your  good 
pleasure. " 

When  he  had  spoken  thus,  asking  all  that  was  left 
for  him  to  desire  and  amazed  at  his  own  boldness,  he 
was  silent,  and  the  Councillors  began  to  discuss  the 
question  among  themselves.  At  a  sign  from  the  Chiefs 
the  urn  into  which  the  votes  were  cast  was  brought  and 
set  before  the  Doge  ;  for  all  was  decided  by  ballot  with, 
coloured  balls,  and  no  man  knew  how  his  neighbour 
voted. 


A  MAID   OF   VENICE  455 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ?  "  asked  the  secre- 
tary, again  speaking  to  Zorzi. 

"  I  have  said  all,  save  to  thank  your  Highness  and 
your  lordships  with  all  my  heart,"  answered  the  Dal- 
matian. 

"  Withdraw,  and  await  the  decision  of  the  Supreme 
Council." 

Zorzi  cast  one  more  glance  at  the  great  half  circle  of 
venerable  men,  at  their  velvet  robes,  at  the  carved 
wainscot,  at  the  painted  vault  above,  and  after  making 
a  low  obeisance  he  found  his  way  to  the  door,  outside 
which  the  guards  were  waiting.  They  took  him  back 
to  a  cell  like  the  one  where  he  had  already  sat  so  long, 
but  which  was  reached  by  another  passage,  for  every- 
thing in  the  palace  was  so  disposed  as  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  one  prisoner  meeting  another  on  his  way 
to  the  tribunal  or  coming  from  it ;  and  for  this  reason 
the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  which  was  then  not  yet  built,  was 
afterwards  made  to  contain  two  separate  passages. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  the  tread  of  guards 
ceased  again  and  the  door  was  opened,  and  Zorzi  rose 
as  quickly  as  he  could  when  he  saw  that  it  was  the  sec- 
retary of  the  Ten  who  entered,  carrying  in  his  hand  a 
document  which  had  a  seal  attached  to  it. 

"  Your  prayer  is  granted,"  said  the  man  with  the 
sharp  grey  eyes.  "  By  this  patent  the  Supreme  Council 
permits  you  to  set  up  a  glass-maker's  furnace  of  your 
own  in  Murano,  and  confers  upon  you  all  the  privileges 
of  a  born  glass-blower,  and  promises  you  especial  pro- 
tection if  any  one  shall  attempt  to  interfere  with  your 
rights.'* 


456  MARIETTA 

Zorzi  took  the  precious  parchment  eagerly,  and  he 
felt  the  hot  blood  rushing  to  his  face  as  he  tried  to 
thank  the  secretary.  But  in  a  moment  the  busy  per- 
sonage was  gone,  after  speaking  a  word  to  the  guards, 
and  Zorzi  heard  the  rustling  of  his  silk  gown  in  the 
corridor. 

"You  are  free,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  guards  very 
civilly,  and  holding  the  door  open. 

Zorzi  went  out  in  a  dream,  finding  his  way  he  knew 
not  how,  as  he  received  a  word  of  direction  here  and 
there  from  soldiers  who  guarded  the  staircases.  When 
he  was  aware  of  outer  things  he  was  standing  under 
the  portico  that  surrounds  the  courtyard  of  the  ducal 
palace.  The  broad  parchment  was  unrolled  in  his 
hands  and  his  eyes  were  puzzling  over  the  Latin  words 
and  the  unfamiliar  abbreviations  ;  on  one  side  of  him 
stood  old  Beroviero,  reading  over  his  shoulder  with 
absorbed  interest,  and  on  the  other  was  Zuan  Venier, 
glancing  at  the  document  with  the  careless  certainty  of 
one  who  knows  what  to  expect.  Two  steps  away 
Pasquale  stood,  in  his  best  clothes  and  his  clean  shirt, 
for  he  had  been  one  of  the  witnesses,  and  he  was  firmly 
planted  on  his  bowed  legs,  his  long  arms  hanging  down 
by  his  sides  ;  his  little  red  eyes  were  fixed  on  Zorzi's 
face,  his  ugly  jaw  was  set  like  a  mastiff's,  and  his 
extraordinary  face  seemed  cut  in  two  by  a  monstrous 
smile  of  delight. 

"It  seems  to  be  in  order,"  said  Venier,  politely 
smothering  with  his  gloved  hand  the  beginning  of  a 
yawn. 


A  MAID   OF  VENICE  457 

"  I  owe  it  to  you,  I  am  sure,"  answered  Zorzi,  turning 
grateful  eyes  to  him. 

"  No,  I  assure  you,"  said  the  patrician.  "  But  I  dare- 
say it  has  made  us  all  change  our  opinion  of  the  Ten," 
he  added  with  a  smile.  "  Good-bye.  Let  me  come  and 
see  you  at  work  at  your  own  furnace  before  long.  I 
have  always  wished  to  see  glaso  blown." 

Without  waiting  for  more,  he  walked  quickly  away, 
waving  his  hand  after  he  had  already  turned. 

It  was  noon  when  Zorzi  had  folded  his  patent  care- 
fully and  hidden  it  in  his  bosom,  and  he  and  Beroviero 
and  Pasquale  went  out  of  the  busy  gateway  under  the 
outer  portico.  Beroviero  led  the  way  to  the  right,  and 
they  passed  Saint  Mark's  in  the  blazing  sun,  and  the 
Patriarch's  palace,  and  came  to  the  shady  landing, 
the  very  one  at  which  the  old  man  and  his  daughter  had 
got  out  when  they  had  come  to  the  church  to  meet 
Contarini.  The  gondola  was  waiting  there,  and  Bero- 
viero pushed  Zorzi  gently  before  him. 

"  You  are  still  lame,"  he  said.  "  Get  in  first  and  sit 
down." 

But  Zorzi  drew  back,  for  a  woman's  hand  was  sud- 
denly thrust  out  of  the  little  window  of  the  '  felse/ 
with  a  quick  gesture. 

"  There  is  a  lady  inside,"  said  Zorzi. 

"Marietta  is  in  the  gondola,"  answered  Beroviero 
with  a  smile.  "  She  would  not  stay  at  home.  But 
there  is  room  for  us  all.  Get  in,  my  son." 


NOTE 

THE  story  of  Zorzi  Ballarin  and  Marietta  Beroviero  is  not  mere 
fiction,  and  is  told  in  several  ways.  The  most  common  account  of 
the  circumstances  assumes  that  Zorzi  actually  stole  the  secrets 
which  Angelo  Beroviero  had  received  from  Paolo  Godi,  and  thereby 
forced  Angelo  to  give  him  his  daughter  in  marriage ;  but  the  learned 
Comm.  C.  A.  Levi,  director  of  the  museum  in  Murano,  where  many 
works  of  Beroviero  and  Ballarin  are  preserved,  has  established  the 
latter's  reputation  for  honourable  dealing  with  regard  to  the  pre- 
cious secrets,  in  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  L'  Arte  del  Vetro  in  Murano," 
published  in  Venice,  in  1895,  to  which  I  beg  to  refer  the  curious 
reader.  I  have  used  a  novelist's  privilege  in  writing  a  story  which 
does  not  pretend  to  be  historical.  I  have  taken  eleven  years  from 
the  date  on  which  Giovanni  Beroviero  wrote  his  letter  to  the 
Podestk  of  Murano,  and  the  letter  itself,  though  similar  in  spirit  to 
the  original,  is  differently  worded  and  covers  somewhat  different 
ground;  I  have  also  represented  Zorzi  as  standing  alone  in  his 
attempt  to  become  an  independent  glass-blower,  whereas  Comm. 
Levi  has  discovered  that  he  had  two  companions,  who  were  Dalma- 
tians, like  himself.  There  is  no  foundation  in  tradition  for  the 
existence  of  Arisa  the  Georgian  slave,  but  it  is  well  known  that 
beautiful  Eastern  slaves  were  bought  and  sold  in  Venice  and  in 
many  other  parts  of  Italy  even  at  a  much  later  date. 


458 


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